


Just a Little Divine Intervention

by ScrollingKingfisher



Series: Abandoned Machinery [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angel Sam Winchester, Angelic Grace, Angelic True Forms, Blood and Gore, Excessive Amounts of Biology, Human Gabriel, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Resurrection, Slow Burn, Soul Bond, WIP, no mark of cain, tags updating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-05-14 07:37:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 61,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5735254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScrollingKingfisher/pseuds/ScrollingKingfisher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just because being turned into an angel didn't kill him (much to everyone's surprise) doesn't mean that Sam's problems have been solved. In fact, they might be multiplying. Between resurrecting an archangel and adjusting to his own abrupt change of species, he's got more than enough on his plate already. What else could possibly go wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Here, There and Everywhere

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again all!  
> I'm so glad that I can finally post this. There was a real writing hump in the middle of the plot that I had to get over, but it's here now.  
> When I say that this one is a WIP, what I actually mean is that the entire plot is done, finished, but the writing is still rougher than a cheese grater, so it may take a little longer between updates so that I can polish it into something worth reading.
> 
> The story picks up directly after the last one. This may not make a lot of sense to those who haven't read the first one, so you should probably read that first. But I'm not your mother, so.
> 
> Enjoy!

Sam snapped his wings back and pushed himself through the dimensions, covering a hundred miles in a single beat. His Grace hummed, and Sam could feel it properly now, the tug in the distance that meant that Gabriel’s soul was still out there somewhere. But frustratingly, he couldn’t get a lock on its location.

 

   He snarled with frustration. According to his new memories, souls couldn’t survive for long in the aether. He couldn’t just leave Gabriel out there.

 

   Deciding to go back to the place that he had died and figure it out from there he slingshotted across the earth, pulling his vessel along with him, homing in on his destination and sweeping it with all his senses before he landed.

 

   Flying was, for some reason, more difficult now that he was thinking about it rather than relying on his instincts. It took all of his concentration to keep his wing beats in time and not crash land.

 

   He backpedalled his wings and dropped clumsily down into his vessel in the rotting remains of the Elysian Fields hotel, staggering and using a table to keep himself upright. Standing still for a second and breathing heavily, he scanned the area again, just in case. A great many powerful beings had died here, and he knew that sort of energy had a habit of attracting scavengers.

 

   Once he was satisfied that the building was deserted he set off walking through the rooms, his feet kicking up dust as he went, instincts driving him on. He passed though the entrance hall, skirting the desiccated corpses draped over furniture and sprawled across the floor. Rusty brown bloodstains still spattered the surfaces and flecked the walls.

 

   Eventually Sam found himself in the dining room. He hesitated, the ghostly remains of an old energy surge still prickling against his wings, before pushing the door with one hand. It opened with a creaking sigh, deafening in the absolute stillness, as if the building itself was still grieving.

 

   He ignored the skeleton by the door and touched the back of the singed table, remembering the events of five years ago. Or was it six now? But it had been lifetimes since the last time he was here. He frowned down at the spot where the imprint of a pair of enormous sooty wings were splayed with nothing in between them. Someone must have moved the body.

 

   He spread his awareness out, searching.

 

   There.

 

   Sam snapped out his wings and flew again, barely more than an aided jump, alighting with a stumble at the edge of a field not half a mile away. To his surprise the body was six feet under the ground. Someone must have come back for it. Maybe Kali had returned. He inspected it, eyes closed.

 

   There was little left of what had once been Gabriel’s vessel, only bones and hair remaining, the rest rotted into the ground. He knew it would be different from repairing his own body, only minutes dead. Rebuilding it would be a difficult task. He would need more help this time. He opened his eyes and thought for a second, looking out at the empty expanse of the field. What would they need to build a human body?

 

   He flicked through his memories and the answer came to him unexpectedly from an old biology lesson. There wasn’t enough left to rebuild the actual body, but that didn’t mean that they couldn’t make a copy. And the instructions were all here…

 

   Taking a deep breath, Sam reached out into the soil. He searched deep in the marrow of the bones until he found some remains that contained what he needed- intact genetic information, a complete blueprint for a new vessel.

 

   After a moment of hesitation, he selected one of the cells from his own body, scooping out his own DNA before inserting Gabriel’s into the nucleus and putting it in stasis. Now there wouldn’t be any problems with the molecules disintegrating before they could do anything with it. There were no living cells left in Gabriel’s vessel, and he would guess that creating life from scratch was more costly and complicated. More could go wrong and he only had a handful of borrowed memories and Cas’ knowledge of healing to guide him. He would wait until he could ask Cas for help. After all, he must have done something very similar after he pulled Dean out of Hell. And, the more he thought about it, maybe he should wait until he had located Gabriel’s soul to reform his body.

 

   Leaving the bones under the ground, Sam laboriously took flight again, searching out Dean’s soul. For a few frustrating seconds he couldn’t find it, then he remembered the sigils on their ribs. Instead he locked onto the familiar signature of Castiel’s Grace and let it drag him back through the fabric of the universe, fighting to keep his flight even.

 

.o0o.

 

   He meant to land right next to Castiel, but just before he reached him he felt a stinging collision with a force field. Thunder boomed overhead as he yelped and bounced off the wards like a fly hitting a windshield. It was like hitting an electric fence.

 

   He dropped back onto the earthly plane on his back with a puff of dust outside the reach of the sigils. Picking himself up, he found himself to his surprise standing next to the bunker entrance. He stared at the door in confusion and not a small amount of worry. It hadn’t been more than half an hour since he had been in that farmhouse with Dean, but there was the impala. Also, it was clearly daylight. He could no longer feel Cas’ Grace, but if the wards preventing anything getting out of the bunker were as effective as those preventing anything from getting in then it would be like trying to sense an amoeba through a mile of concrete.

 

   Sam rolled his shoulders and ruffled his wings, trying to get the feathers to lie flat again. All that achieved was making them more rucked up, so he gave up with a sigh and resigned himself to the uncomfortable sensation. He walked up to the front door and rang the bell, then waited.

 

   There was the muffled sound of steps from the other side, then the door swung open and Sam braced himself. This wasn’t going to be pretty.

 

   Sure enough, the holy water splashed off his closed eyes and trickled down his neck. His brother’s soul flashed with anger and its surface was swirling into distressed peaks, and he could hear all of Dean’s thoughts near on screaming at him, but Dean didn’t say anything. Sam blew a droplet off his nose as he took the silver knife from Dean and cut a small nick into his forearm, then momentarily lost concentration as he watched his Grace swirl up to the surface, licking under his skin to heal the wound.

 

   Fascinating.

 

   “Well? Where the fuck have you been?” Sam’s attention snapped back to Dean’s furious face and the worry behind it.

 

   “I don’t know, one second I was with you, then I had to go, and when I came back here and it was daytime. I swear Dean, I couldn’t have been gone for more than half an hour. I’m just as confused as you are. How long was I missing?”

 

   “Two and a half days,” Dean growled at him with narrowed eyes.

 

   Sam closed his eyes briefly. “Shit. Where’s Cas?”

 

   Dean jerked his head and stepped back inside. After hesitating for a moment, Sam stepped over the threshold with a wince of anticipation. To his relief he wasn’t repelled by the stinging force field, so he relaxed and shut the door behind himself, descending the steps behind his brother who was still radiating his irritation.

 

   Striding through the main room, he saw a duffel on the table and faltered. “Were you going out again?”

 

   Dean snorted. “Yeah, to look for you, you asshole.”

 

   Sam caught up with Dean in the war room. “I take it that Cas told you? About what happened?”

 

   “Yeah, he told me. Not that I understood everything he said, but yeah. And I woke up a couple of minutes after you left, saw the aftermath.” Sam shifted uncomfortably and Dean swept him with a searching gaze. “How do you feel? Any different?”

 

   Sam thought about it for a second, hearing the real question that Dean was asking in his mind, _are you still Sam? Are you still my brother, or are you something else?_ He picked his words carefully.

 

   “No, not most of the time. I mean, it’s still a bit… overwhelming. I just changed species, you know? There’s all sorts of new instincts and other crap floating around. Like back at the farmhouse, all of a sudden I just… needed to go. But I still feel like myself, I’ve still got my soul.”

 

   Dean nodded and kept walking into the kitchen. He reached into the fridge, pulling out two beers and offering one to Sam like an olive branch. Sam knew he wouldn’t be able to actually enjoy it, but he reached out and took it anyway. At the mention of his soul, Sam saw the flash of memories run through Dean’s mind like a film reel. His body, standing outside the front door, expression slightly too blank, limbs held slightly too stiffly. A ball of burning, glowing amber illuminating Cas’ face in a soft golden light as he reached for it.

 

   “Woah. Is that really what I looked like?”

 

   Dean glanced up, “Looked like what?”

 

   “I saw my soul, in your mind. Is that really how I looked to you?”

 

    “Yeah, it was.” The reel played again, over layered with a film of emotions. _Beautiful._

 

   “Aw, Dean, you’re making me blush.”

 

   Dean did flush at that. “Shut up. Keep your psychic fingers to yourself, bitch. At least I know it’s definitely you, nobody else could irritate me so thoroughly within five minutes of showing up.”

 

   “Sorry if I look a bit stiff, by the way. Being back in a body is a lot harder than you would think. It’s like I’m not really connected to my nerve endings any more.” Sam shook out his arms and tried to get the muscles in his back to relax naturally.

 

   Dean shrugged nonchalantly, trying to brush it off but Sam could feel his acceptance and relief that he’d addressed it. “Not a problem, man. As long as you’re still in there. You went nuclear a few days ago, guess we should expect an adjustment period. You do realise you’re doing Cas’ head tilt thing, right?”

 

   Sam stopped trying to see the other planes of Dean’s soul and jerked his head upright. Dean grinned, then his thoughts darkened again in disapproval. “Where were you? Cas wouldn’t tell me where you went, just said you were going to find yourself or some chick flick shit.”

 

      “Well, he was sort of right. I need to talk to Cas about it, actually.”

 

   Where was he anyway? Sam reached out through the maze of rooms and found his glow, then tapped as gently as he could against Cas’ Grace.

 

   Evidently the tap hadn’t been as gentle as he thought, because the Grace recoiled with a wild ripple and a panicked yell echoed up from the dungeon. Dean’s head whipped around so fast Sam heard the vertebrae in his neck click and his soul swelled with protective concern.

 

   “Cas?” Dean bellowed back, practically throwing his beer bottle onto the sideboard and bolting off down the corridor, drawing his gun from the back of his jeans.

 

   “Wait, Dean, it’s just… oh, never mind.” Sam set off after him, trotting down the corridor, snorting to himself at Dean’s overreaction.

 

   By the time he passed the shelves and walked through the concealed door, Dean was patting Cas down under the pretence of checking for injuries. Sam thought that if he came any closer Dean might start snarling like a protective mother bear.

 

   “Dean, I can assure you that I am absolutely fine,” Despite his objections Cas didn’t seem to be in any hurry to stop Dean’s hands from running along his shoulders. Sam felt his lips curling into a smirk but plastered on a carefully neutral expression before Dean turned around, a worried frown on his face.

 

   “What happened, Cas?”

 

   “Dean, all that happened was that your brother tried to call for me, but at the moment he is a little… heavy handed with his Grace. Personally I think it is quite a feat that he can control it at all, but he needs a little practice with it. I also believe that this is why he has arrived later than anticipated.” He turned to Sam. “Using your Grace while in a vessel is a little different from when you are incorporeal. It will be harder to control and more temperamental at first until you get used to it. There is a reason why many angels had not taken vessels until a few years ago. Accidental smiting is quite common.”

 

   Sam snatched his hand back where he was about to rest it against Dean’s shoulder.

 

   “Yeah, it was much harder to fly with a vessel in tow. I almost didn’t make it back here. Thank God I didn’t drift too far in time, I could’ve ended up in the last century or something. Talking about flight, nice wings.”

 

   Where only a few days ago Cas’ wings had been ragged bald shadows, now the tops of them were covered in thick, sleek scapulars. These gave way smoothly into the coverts, then finally into the long, gleaming flight feathers. The outermost primaries were still slightly short, not yet fully out of the gleaming silver sheathes that they had grown in, giving the wings a slightly stumpy look, but Sam could tell that when fully feathered they would be long and tapered, built for speed and manoeuvrability. All the plumage looked fresh and healthy, and although colour wasn’t really applicable to that particular plane of reality, they looked dark, almost black.

 

   Cas preened slightly under the attention, ruffling the feathers and flicking the wings out briefly in what Sam instinctively knew was a friendly greeting, exposing their slightly paler undersides.

 

   “Thank you, Sam. I also have to thank you for helping me to regrow the feathers. I was worried that they might not grow back in and that I would be flightless permanently.”

 

   Dean was scowling at the air behind Cas’ back as though he could will the wings onto his plane of existence.

 

   “Glad I could help. Sorry I’m back later than expected, I must have given you a scare.” Sam glanced guiltily at Dean, but he was still searching for a glimpse of Cas’ feathers.

 

   “It’s fine, Sam. You couldn’t have known. I imagine angelic instincts are quite overwhelming if you are not used to them.” Cas glanced up and down Sam’s body, as though he was expecting to see something. “What did you find in Elysian Fields?”

 

   Sam held out his palm, the cell containing the vessel’s DNA obvious to angelic vision and Castiel nodded, looking surprised. Dean looked down at his apparently empty palm and raised an eyebrow at him in confusion, trying to remember why Elysian Fields sounded familiar.

 

   “I got Gabriel’s DNA, well the vessel’s anyway.” Sam explained. “I figured it would be better to get something that we know he’s compatible with. The body was too far gone and I don’t know enough about healing to put it back together. Anyway, it’s not as if I’ve found his soul yet.”

 

   “Wait, you were trying to resurrect _Gabriel_?” Dean snorted incredulously. “He was an angel. We still don’t know where they go when they die. And there is no way that asshole ever had a soul. No offence, Cas, but it kind of goes along with the angel territory.”

 

   “He wasn’t a pure angel, Dean. And anyway, angels can have souls. I’ve got one and Cas has too.”

 

   Dean spun to look at Cas, who was staring at Sam wide eyed. “I have a soul?”

 

   “Yeah, I saw it while I was out of body. Congratulations, man.”

 

   “Sam, you must have been mistaken. Angels cannot have souls, our Grace prohibits it.” Cas sounded disbelieving, like he was trying to squash the hope that Sam could see blooming spring green across his mind.

 

  “You saw my soul, didn’t you?” Sam shrugged and grinned at him. “Guess that whole ‘Grace isn’t compatible with souls’ thing was a myth.”

 

   Dean clapped Cas on the shoulder and grinned at him, and Cas’ slightly shell-shocked expression turned to one of soft delight as he met Dean’s eyes.

 

   “Yeah Cas, congratulations. Guess that makes you an honorary human.”

 

   Sam watched, fascinated, as Cas’ smile grew to match Dean’s, both of them holding eye contact for far longer than necessary. It was the same contorted mating ritual he had watched them perform a thousand times, but this time they looked like they might actually have a clue.

 

   He cleared his throat to remind them that he was actually still there.

 

   Dean jerked back and flushed red, but to Sam’s surprise his soul didn’t retreat, the gold threads from the centre winding out towards Cas. In turn, Cas’ wings folded demurely behind his back but his feathers were so puffed out that he looked even larger than he usually did. Wow. Maybe something _had_ happened while he was gone.

 

   Dean rubbed at the back of his neck and changed the subject. “Sam, this is all super interesting, but I have a better question; why? Why, the hell, would you want Gabriel back?”

 

   Sam could see exactly what dean was thinking. Why would he resurrect Gabriel, the same Gabriel who put him through mystery spot and endless hours of soap operas, procedural cop shows and Herpexia commercials? If he was in Dean’s shoes, he would be checking for possession and hex bags right now.

 

   The truth was, Sam didn’t really know himself. Maybe he kind of understood the guy after all the snippets of memories he had watched.

 

   He shrugged. “I figure we owed him after he faced down Lucifer for us. And I can feel it in my guts, he’s still out there somewhere, we can’t just abandon him. If he was actually dead, then I’d just let him rest, but he’s not, I can feel it tugging at my Grace. Not that I know where he is. It feels like someone’s hiding him.”

 

   Dean frowned, obviously displeased, but his thoughts were too complex to pick out exactly what was pissing Dean off and Sam didn’t want to pry any further.

 

   “I think I might know where he is,” Castiel spoke up unexpectedly. “A while age, Metatron abducted me and showed me an illusion of Gabriel. Until now I thought that was all it was, but it was very realistic. Much too in character for Metatron.”

 

   “So, what? Metatron’s got Gabriel’s soul somewhere?”

 

   “It would seem like it. He’s the only lead we have, if you’re sure that Gabriel’s soul is still around.”

 

   “If he even had a soul,” Dean muttered.

 


	2. Not Amoosing, Dean

 

   After some debate (read; arguments with Dean), they decided that the fastest way to locate Gabriel’s soul would be to find Metatron and get the answer from him directly.

 

   Sam stepped out of the bunker for a second to perform a precursory scan with his Grace and confirmed his suspicion that Metatron was hidden, probably with sigil tattoos, and resigned himself to searching the old fashioned way. He wasn’t surprised. After all Metatron wasn’t stupid, he had the whole of heaven on his tail as well as the Winchesters, but they had the advantage of a lot of experience in tracking people without supernatural help. Metatron was human. He would surface sooner or later, and they just had to be there when he came up for air.

 

   Dean had disappeared into the depths of the bunker muttering mutinously after losing the last argument, and Cas had followed him down, so it looked like the research was on him. No change from the usual there, then.

 

   Sam hacked his way into the police traffic records and ran a search on any gold continentals. Despite having lived on earth for at least a few centuries, Sam doubted that Metatron had ever learnt to drive properly. He scrolled down the list, narrowing his eyes in concentration. Not that one, that one, that one…

 

   There was nothing. Absolutely nothing. Maybe he had dumped the car?

 

   He blew out a long breath and thought. Where else would he have to go? They had face recognition software that they could run, but it took an age to work and it wasn’t infallible. And they would need an approximate location so that he could hack the cameras.

 

   He realised with a snap that Metatron would have had to go to a hospital; he had been shot in the leg, he would have needed medical attention before long if he didn’t know what he was doing with first aid.

 

   He pulled up the medical records for the hospital closest to where Cas said that he had been seen last. Sure enough, there was an obvious fake name registered along a description of Metatron’s exact injuries. Sam snorted. McFly? Back to the future? Seriously?

 

   Apparently he had vanished the next morning, and Sam was surprised that the police weren’t onto him.

 

   He hacked the security camera feed for the parking lot of the hospital and watched the pixelated blur waddle towards what looked like Cas’ car like a particularly evil gnome.

 

   Where would an angel go, if he was hated in heaven and hunted on earth?

 

   Home. That’s where. Or wherever he had made his home, anyway.

 

   Sam smiled grimly and called for Cas and Dean. He knew roughly where Metatron would be hiding out.

 

   “Hey, Cas, you know that reserve where we found Metatron that first time? Any mentions of specific spots in their legends?”

 

.o0o.

 

   There. There was something in the corner of his eye.

 

   Sam whipped around, trying to see whatever was just out of his field of vision, but it was gone again. Frustrated and jumpy, Sam turned to face the front. Dean gave him a strange look as he peered over from where Cas was buried in a book of native American mythology, still grumpy from earlier and clearly not in a forgiving mood yet.

 

   Sam shrugged his shoulders and tried to shake off the feeling. There was nothing there, he would be able to sense it, he could see the bacteria on his fingers for fuck’s sake.

 

   And yet, there it was again. This time, he didn’t move.

 

   “Cas,” he said in a very carefully controlled voice, “Is there something behind me?”

 

   Cas looked up from his reading, puzzled, and looked past him, then shook his head. “What’s wrong, Sam?” Cas must have been able to see his Grace crawling nervously under his skin, because Sam could see his Grace rising as well, crackling out along the great dark wings.

 

   “It just feels like there’s something, just out of the corner of my eye.”

 

   Castiel’s mind was yellow-confused for a moment, then a sudden flush of realisation-white. “Ah. Yes. That would be the antlers.”

 

   Well, that wasn’t confusing at all. “What antlers?” Dean had given up pretending to read over Cas’ shoulder by now and he was looking around as well.

 

   “You are mainly trying to focus on your vessel’s vision, but the eyes on your true form can still see and there is some… bleed through.”

 

   “Antlers?” Dean made an unattractive snorting noise. Sam caught a barrage of moose pictures and scowled at him.

 

   Cas turned to Sam, looking him up and down, then high up overhead. And even though he should have been staring at the ceiling, Sam felt for a second as though he was looking into his eyes again. He snapped back from his Other gaze and Cas frowned.

 

   “You don’t seem particularly aware of your form. Would you like to see it? What you look like? It might help you to connect with it.”

 

   “No!” Sam said, too fast. “No. I’m fine.” He already knew what he was without seeing it for himself. He knew that as alien as Castiel’s form had looked a few days ago, his own was going to be worse, twisted and mutated, because that’s what he was now. Even his scientific curiosity couldn’t overcome his fear of losing control over himself again, and he knew that as soon as he left his vessel to look through his other eyes, left his flesh behind, then he would lose his humanity too. He didn’t need a reminder of the broken creature that he was. He couldn’t be Samuel, not again.

 

   Cas was looking at him with concern now, but Sam deflected the wisp of Grace that reached out to him, pointedly turning back to the books.

 

   “Come on. We need to find Gabriel.”

 

.o0o.

 

   Sam alighted with a stagger, his wings still half spread and ruffled by the flight. Cas had arrived a few seconds earlier with Dean in tow. Dean grinned at him, his thoughts running with snide comments about Sam’s obvious lack of elegance and how his angel was much more graceful. Typical Dean, always happier when there was a hunt to distract him. Sam flipped him the bird and Dean’s smirk only grew. Cas turned to them, his scowl more than enough to tell them to stow their crap.

 

   Sam looked at their surroundings curiously. There was a small cabin in the clearing that the local legends had spoken of being the dwelling place of their spiritual leader, with a rutted dirt road leading down into the valley, all of it surrounded by a dense forest of pines. The house itself would have looked deserted if there hadn’t been smoke streaming from the chimney, the smell of a wood fire cutting through the crisp mountain air and the underlying scent of damp earth.

 

   With silent gestures they split up, Dean and Cas going around the back while Sam approached the hut from the front. He waited for the signal.

 

   A high whistle rose from behind the hut, pitched so that it might have been mistaken for a bird if Dean hadn’t been using it as a signal since they were children. Gearing up to face whoever he might find inside, Sam pulled his Grace to the surface and focused on the door, trying to gently flick the mechanism of the lock.

 

   The door burst apart in a blizzard of splinters and Sam jumped back with a startled exclamation. After lowering his hands from where they had instinctively risen to protect his face, Sam hurried over the threshold. Well that was one way to open the doors, he supposed. Now he understood why Cas tended to leave a string of blown-out doors behind him when he was after someone.

 

   Cas and Dean were already in the larger of the two rooms, which was crammed with books and draped in opulent tapestries. The smell of dust and wood smoke from the open fireplace filled the air. Dean had a gun trained on Metatron, who was sitting low in a plush armchair as though he wanted to sink into it to escape, his eyes darting warily around from door to window. Dean raised an eyebrow at Sam as he came in, wondering what he had done to the front door, but Sam could feel most of his attention still sharply trained on the man in front of him.

 

   As always when Cas was in the same room as Metatron, Sam could almost feel the dark red pulses of hatred veining through his thoughts. If Sam and Dean disliked Metatron, it didn’t even hold a candle to how Cas felt. With his new senses it was almost choking. Castiel’s hate was a slow, cold, patient thing. He would wait for years if he had to, but he would get his revenge eventually.

 

   Cas stepped closer to the smaller man, stalking forwards and leaning over him with predatory threat. Although the fallen scribe would no longer be able to see them, Castiel’s wings were arched high over his head and the hackles on all of his shoulders had risen in an aggressive display, the feathers no longer soft and downy but obsidian blades.

 

   “Where have you hidden Gabriel’s soul, Metatron?” Cas snarled into Metatron’s face.

 

   That obviously wasn’t the question that Metatron had been expecting. He frowned, sinking even further back into the chair. “What?”

 

   “You know what.” Cas’ eyes were as cold as the arctic circle. “Where. Is. It?”

 

   Even when he was almost helpless with a furious Cas looming over him, Metatron apparently still had the guts to smirk. Looking at Cas’ expression, Sam had to wonder if Metatron had any survival instincts at all.

 

   “Figured it out, have you? Took you long enough. You should be thanking me. If it was up to you, dumber and dumbest then what’s left of the littlest archangel would be celestial dust by now.”

 

   Neither Sam nor Dean reacted to the insults, but Cas seemed to spark blue fire. If Sam’s eyes hadn’t been enhanced by Grace he might have missed Cas’ hand as it darted out and wrapped itself around Metatron’s throat tightly. The scribe tried to jerk back out of the iron hold and his throat convulsed as he desperately tried to suck air.

 

   “Cas…” Dean reached out, gently touching him on the arm, and the tempest in Cas’ mind died out slightly. His grip on Metatron’s windpipe slackened and the portly fallen angel rasped in air, wriggling out of Cas’ grip with new fear in his eyes, wheezing and rubbing his throat.

 

   “Where is he?” Cas clipped out again.

 

   “If I tell you, will you let me go?” Metatron croaked, wary now, his eyes locked on Cas.

 

   “We might hand you over to the angels instead of killing you right here,” Cas’ voice was hard and cold.

 

   A tense silence filled the room.

 

   “Alright. He’s in an old storage unit.” Metatron rattled off a set of coordinates, his eyes shifting between them restlessly. Sam and Cas glanced at each other, understanding passing between them, then Sam spread his wings, taking off as gracefully as he could, feeling Metatron’s bolt of surprise behind him at his departure.

 

   Rather than landing directly on the coordinates, he landed a few hundred meters away with a puff of dust and tripped over a small rock. _Thank God there was no one around to see me arrive_ , he thought as he staggered a few steps across the lot before regaining his balence. He would have to remember to check that from now on before he landed.

 

   Straightening up again, he inspected the landscape. An old industrial complex loomed behind him, slowly being eaten to rust by the elements, and in front of him were a block of anonymous storage units. The place looked absolutely deserted. Almost suspiciously so.

 

   He walked briskly towards the corrugated sides of the building. Almost immediately he was glad that his ingrained paranoia about traps meant that he hadn’t landed directly inside. Wards, hidden under another layer of paint, glowed dimly to his eyes, the connections between them thin enough not to be noticed but sharp as a knife. Any angel that tried to land wouldn’t have seen it from above. They would be shredded as though they had fallen through a grid of cheese wire. He smiled grimly, then sat back and concentrated.

 

   He couldn’t feel any souls inside, but the bunker had proven that wards were more than effective at masking them so that didn’t mean anything. Did it feel as though the Grace in him was tugging slightly harder, or was he imagining it? He wasn’t exactly an expert, he’d only been an angel for less than a day. Well, he might as well give it a shot.

 

   Sam thought for a second, assessing the net. He needed something sharp, something hard enough to remove the paint and blood and preferably magical to break the wards.

 

   As he thought, he felt his grace pooling and there was an unexpected prickling in his fingertips. Without thinking about it, he blinked his vision and then he was high above, staring at the graceful fingers of his True Form. There were long, lethal-looking claws emerging from his fingertips that he could have sworn weren’t there before. Before the panic of finding himself suddenly looking through his other eyes could set in his own curiosity blotted it out and he twisted his wrist and flexed his fingers, watching the play of light over his talons.

 

   _Huh. Extendable claws,_ he thought to himself. And as a manifestation of that…

 

   He dropped back into hi human body, unexpectedly instinctive and easy unlike the other times that he had done it.

 

   And there. A heavy weight had appeared inside his coat. Hesitating, he pulled it out.

 

   It looked like any other angel sword he had held, but as soon as the hilt dropped into his palm he knew that it was his. It buzzed, resonating with the Grace inside him as it became an extension of his being, part of a circuit, sigils along its length glowing slightly to his eyes as though his touch charged it.

 

   He had never even though that angel blades might actually be manifestations of angels’ True Forms, but now it seemed glaringly obvious. All along, they had literally been baring their claws at one another.

 

   The heft of the blade in his hand was perfect, which made sense as it was actually a part of him. With one swift movement Sam brought the blade down in a slashing motion, right through the middle of the largest ward on the wall in front of him. The entire net sparked and fizzled, burning out. With a grin of satisfaction, he strode around to the front of the unit and stood in front of the rolling door.

 

   He pressed a palm to the lock, concentrating on limiting the power he channelled into it this time. He let a tiny trickle of Grace into the mechanism. It melted and exploded, but Sam counted that as an improvement over blowing up the entire door.

 

   With a shove and a grinding sound, the door rolled up and Sam peered into the dark inside. The light plinked on as he stepped in, illuminating the dusty shelves slightly. He walked in further. It was full of seemingly random objects, everything from knick-knacks to heavy duty curse boxes.

 

   When he finally found what was left of Gabriel, it was at the back in a dusty jar behind an ancient metal globe.

 

   He could feel it now that he was close, see the faint glow that the soul gave off. He pushed the globe aside and pulled the jar forwards carefully.

 

   The light shone out golden around his fingers. Gabriel’s soul was gold as well, a richer colour than his own. It somehow managed to be metallic yet have a crystalline translucency, solid and shimmering but simultaneously liquid and flowing, threads of bronze and bright scarlet running through it. He smiled as it pressed itself against the glass.

 

   But it was so weak. Sam could see where the edges were ripped and torn, where something had attacked it. He wasn’t surprised. Gabriel had been floating in the aether for so long that he should have just disintegrated, even before Metatron started meddling.

 

   He wondered why Gabriel’s soul had been left in the veil; maybe because he had made his own soul he wasn’t on the to-do list for the reapers. Metatron must have picked him up and, instead of helping him, decided that he was much more useful for trying to trick Cas. After all, characters were so much more believable when you had a base to work from. His anger at Metatron grew as he inspected the soul. He was no better than the Grigori, souls were sacred things that their Father had entrusted-

 

   Wait, no. not his father. He shook his head, confused, and grimaced. He wondered if it was personality bleed from Gabriel or if it was an intrinsic instinct of the Grace inside him. He really hoped it was the latter, he preferred his mind to be his own, thank you.

 

   But the protectiveness he felt towards the soul was something that he was pretty sure both his Grace and himself were responsible for.

 

   The soul pressed itself weakly against the glass lid again, trying to escape the confinement. Gently, Sam opened the jar and the soul slipped free, floating up into the air laboriously and trailing wisps of plasma as though movement was costly.

 

   Sam hadn’t anticipated that the soul would be so weak, and he wasn’t entirely sure that he could transport it back to Castiel. He was still having problems getting his own vessel to follow him, and carrying luggage as delicate as a soul? Forget it. He knew that it wasn’t strong enough to last out in the aether on its own, he would have to protect it. But how?

 

   As he was considering the problem he didn’t notice as it limped its way over to him, an unexpectedly freezing pressure against his Grace, like cold toes pressed against warm skin. Sam suddenly remembered Cas mentioning carrying Dean’s soul from Hell. If he carried the soul inside his Grace it probably wouldn’t affect his flight as much. Could he do that with an archangel’s Grace, or would the Grace be too powerful? _Probably not in its weakened state,_ he thought, watching as the soul tried to flatten itself against him to soak up more warmth. And it was Gabriel’s Grace, after all. If it had recognised and not harmed Sam, then it wasn’t going to kill its true owner.

 

   But to do this, he knew that he was going to have to embrace his angelic side. He considered his options but he couldn’t see any other choice. Taking a deep breath, he dropped his vessel again.

 

   The soul was even more beautiful with these eyes, the gold more vibrant and the scarlet more brilliant, and all of it was shot through with an otherworldly rainbow of colours outside the human vision spectrum. The soul prickled aggressively and tried to limp away as he gingerly reached out for it, not with his human arm but with a long, clawed appendage and pulled the soul inside, working mostly on instinct. He could feel his Grace burning it at the edges but once it felt the warmth it continued to burrow closer despite how it must have been in pain. “Sorry, sorry,” he muttered as he pushed it past the Grace and into the protected space next to his own soul.

 

   Immediately it spread out from its protective ball to wrap around him, basking in the warmth. The soul was still cold, as though the chill of the void had seeped into it, and Sam supposed that any contact after so many years alone would be a welcome relief, no matter who it was. Gabriel wasn’t conscious, couldn’t be without a body, but he could feel the soul stirring, assessing its new environment. Sam felt its iron will to live and grinned. That wasn’t anything new. From the memories in his Grace, Gabriel was a survivor.

 

   Having gotten what he came for he took flight again, winging his way back to the cabin. He was distracted this time by making sure that the soul was safely tucked away and landed surprisingly gracefully. He felt Dean’s itching impatience before he was fully in the room, turning towards the noise of Sam’s arrival, his thoughts demanding what had taken him so long. Cas’ mind was deadly still, the calm before the storm.

 

   “Sorry I took so long, there were some unexpected obstacles. Forget to mention something, Metatron?” He took in the man’s wide eyes, darting around for an escape route more than ever, and felt a grim satisfaction at his terror as well as his confusion over what Sam was. Good. He should be afraid after everything he had done to all of them. “What? Surprised to see me still alive? You know, rather than diced into cubes.”

 

   “What?!” Dean snapped, his eyes darting to Sam, but Sam felt a wave of rage coming from Cas that eclipsed everything else. His Grace boiled in his vessel, roiling and seeping out of his eyes. Broad wings spread even wider from his shoulders in a threatening display, the long feathers bristling. Dean staggered backwards, wincing, as the blinding light threw great shadows on the walls and a feral snarl rose from Cas’ human throat as well as from his extra heads. His true form turned out to have more teeth and claws than should have been physically possible, and Sam was forcibly reminded that Cas was a seraph, a warrior. Sam tucked the soul more tightly inside his Grace, feeling Cas’ self-control snapping.

 

   “You tried to kill us? Again?!” Cas was yelling in Metatron’s terrified face, the piercing ring of his True Voice breaking through. “You kill Dean, you murder my brothers and sisters, you rip out my Grace and cast the angels from heaven, you torture what is left of the last archangel to manipulate me and for what?! You have so much blood on your hands, but even now you have no shame! Gadreel, Kevin, countless others. You are _dripping with it!_ ”

 

   The last words came out with an unearthly scream and in a blinding flash Cas’ rage overflowed. Sam snapped out a wing on instinct in front of Dean to protect him from the brunt of the Grace, but he needn’t have bothered; even when he was out of control, Cas would never hurt Dean.

 

   The same couldn’t be said for Metatron. When the light died away, Cas was breathing heavily, staring down at the burnt out corpse of the scribe, empty eye sockets still smoking slightly.

 

   “That was for Dean,” Cas muttered down at what was left of the thing that had once been one of his brothers.

 

   Then Cas noticed that Dean was still blinking, trying to get the afterimage of wings out of his eyes and wiping a trickle of blood coming from his ear, and the last wisps of his anger evaporated into concern.

 

   “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to lose control like that. Are you okay?” Cas stepped into his personal space and tilted Dean’s head so he could inspect his eyes. Dean batted him away half-heartedly.

 

   “I’m fine, Cas, don’t worry.” He glanced over at Metatron and his face twisted into a grim look of satisfaction. “Well, that’s one dick that won’t be bothering us again. That was kind of badass, by the way.”

 

   “Thank you, Dean.”

 

   Dean turned his attention back to Sam. “Anyway, I can’t see this soul you swear Gabriel had. I’m guessing it wasn’t there”

 

   “I did get him actually, I put him in my Grace so I could transport a little more easily. I’m surprised he’s still alive. Metatron was never exactly good with prisoner treatment. He was stuck in a jar in storage, he’s still pretty ripped up.”

 

   Dean looked around at the slight devastation in the inside of the cabin. “So what’s next? We go back to the bunker and find him a new body?” His disapproval of taking vessels leaked through into his voice.

 

   Cas placed a calming hand on Dean’s shoulder, preparing to take flight. “Yes. Well, we grow one anyway.”

 


	3. Growing Pains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a long one tonight! I tried splitting it up, but it just felt wrong.  
> It's time for Dean and Cas to finally get their shit together, but they're taking it slow. Sorry. Also, there will be (probably inaccurate) biology, because the more you study biology the more you realise that if you think you understand what's going on, it's a thousand times more complex than that. Always.
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are appreciated!

   Sam was mildly alarmed when Cas came back from his ‘ingredients search’ for making the new vessel with half a cow slung over his shoulder. He dropped it onto the floor in the middle of the dungeon with a meaty smack then turned to Sam with an expectant look on his face.

 

   “Um, Cas, no offense but why do we need a cow carcass? I don’t think Gabriel’s going to appreciate his new body being made of dead animals.”

 

   Cas turned to him and frowned like he was missing something very simple. “Vessels are meat. You ate meat, Sam. The majority of humans, especially your brother judging by his burger consumption, are made up of pieces of dead animal.”

 

   Sam opened his mouth, frowned, and then closed it again. Fair point.

 

   Dean sauntered in, stopping short when he saw the body on the floor. “Gross. You guys planning a barbeque I wasn’t invited to?”

 

   Cas looked at Dean with a fond exasperation. “No, we are using it as a molecular basis for creating Gabriel’s new body.”

 

   “Wait, we’re going to _make_ a vessel?”

 

   “Yes, that way we can be sure that Gabriel will be compatible with the body. Also that there will be no consent issues with the original owner, even though, technically, as a human soul he doesn’t need permission.”

 

   Dean looked thoughtful for a second, then grinned. “Great. Does that mean I can make cow puns when he wakes up?” Sam felt his eyes rolling without his control, including the thousands on his true form.

 

   Sam nudged the hide with his foot. “Can’t we just… you know… create it? Instead of going to the trouble of actually growing it? Gabriel created whole worlds once and dropped us into them, I’m sure his Grace could handle making a body.”

 

   Cas shook his head. “Gabriel could create very convincing illusions. He could have made solid objects if he had really wanted to, but they would have only had surface detail, nothing on the inside. Trying to create every single molecule from scratch would be possible, but it would be time consuming and probably enough to drain even your energy, Sam. The amount of energy needed to create matter itself is colossal. Not to mention you would almost definitely get something wrong. The human body is very complex. If we want to create something that can sustain itself, that won’t rely on your energy once it is established or crumble to nothing if it is cut off from you, the simplest method is to build it from a living starting block.”

 

   Cas started pacing slowly back and forth until Dean gently put a hand on his arm to stop him. Cas offered him a small smile before turning back to Sam. “You must understand, Sam, very few things such as this have been attempted before and I am a little nervous. Gabriel’s Grace is powerful, but it has been ripped up and tied to another being. It is not as bright as it once was, and I do not want to lose you, either of you, to burning out trying to create a body from nothing. We have a cell with the body’s genetic information, all it needs is to be reset and properly supplied with nutrients to grow and divide rapidly. The cow is just here to provide the molecular building blocks for the body. It is much simpler to nudge the course of nature rather than trying to fight against it.”

 

   Sam nodded. “Yeah, okay, point taken. I’ll be careful Cas, don’t worry.”

 

   Dean thought about it. “So if it takes up so much energy, how did you make my body? You didn’t grow me, did you?”

 

   “No,” Cas replied, “As soon as we knew the Righteous Man had been sentenced to die we scanned your body, then I just reassembled it when I rescued your soul and removed any other damage. You were much more intact than Gabriel. Even back then when I had all of my powers, it was a costly process and I ended up having to draw a lot of power from heaven to recover. That’s why I had to rest for some time before coming to introduce myself.”

 

   “Huh,” Dean was gazing at Cas with a little wonder, and Cas’ eyes softened as they locked gazes.

 

   “Don’t mind me,” Sam muttered under his breath too low for human ears to pick up as he settled himself on the floor in the middle of the room. Not that he minded that Dean and Cas were finally doing something about the UST (or getting there anyway), he just wished they wouldn’t do it right in front of him. Only they could make staring more intimate than kissing

 

   Cas cleared his throat and they broke apart, Dean backing out of the dungeon with a red face and rubbing the back of his neck like he did whenever he was nervous and pleased.

 

   Sam smiled at Cas, who had turned to him after watching Dean go. “Good luck, man.”

 

   Cas smiled back. “Thank you, Sam. Although I don’t believe we need it.”

 

.o0o.

 

   The next time Dean went into the dungeon, Sam was sat cross-legged in the middle of the devil’s trap with a pinched look on his face as though he had just discovered that Dean had filled his hard drive full of porn. His hands rested upright in his lap, cupped gently around something. He didn’t seem to register that Dean was in the room, even when his boots scraped loudly across the concrete as he wandered over.

 

   “Wotcha got there?”

 

   He leaned over to peer into Sammy’s cupped hands when there was no response. Right in the middle of his palms there was a tiny pink thing, slightly slimy looking, about the same size as a pea.

 

   “Gabriel’s new body, obviously,” Sam murmured back, even though his eyes stayed closed.

 

   “Ew. Gross. Well, he’s not much of a looker.”

 

   “He’s an embryo, Dean. They’re meant to look like that. You looked like that too once.”

 

   “Nah, pretty sure I would have been more devilishly handsome.”

 

   The corner of Sam’s mouth turned up into a smile.

 

   “Anyway, how long’s this thing going to take? You need anything down here, or are you good?”

 

   “Dunno. About a week, judging by the rate it’s growing. And I’m fine, Dean. I just need to concentrate so that all his limbs end up in the right places.”

 

   Dean grinned evilly. “Yeah. Wouldn’t want him to end up with three arms, would we? Hey, you know what I’ve always said about angels being dickless…”

 

   Sam snorted. “Fuck off, Dean. I’m trying to concentrate here.”

 

   Grumbling, Dean threw his hands in the air and left him to it.

 

.o0o.

 

   Dean was sulking. Even he admitted it.

 

   But his baby brother, after turning into an archangel and abandoning him for half a week, had discovered a new obsession and apparently it wasn’t willing endless pie into existence for him. He was given nigh on unlimited power, and what did he do with it? Resurrect things that should have stayed dead, that’s what. Typical Winchester.

 

   The only thing that made him feel slightly better about the whole situation was that apparently Cas was sticking around for the show, which almost made up for Sam closeting himself in the dungeon like he was putting down roots in there. It might also mean that he would have the time to work out whatever was going on between them.

 

   There hadn’t really been time to address that… whatever it was since they got back. He had been too worked into knots worrying about Sammy at first, flying off to who knew where, and then he had kept putting off thinking about it. After all, that was how he had ended up being in denial about this whole thing for several years. He was an expert in denial.

 

   Well, now he had the time to think it over. He couldn’t just avoid the subject forever now that they had acknowledged it.

 

   But what if he had been wrong? What if Cas didn’t feel the same way? What if he had left it too long and it was awkward now? 

 

   He poked moodily at the burgers he was making, only cooking for one. Sigh.

 

   Like the mind reader he was, Cas appeared behind him. After all the years of abrupt appearances Dean didn’t really jump any more, but a little thrill always went through him when he turned to find Cas a little (or a lot) closer than was socially acceptable. Initially he had thought that was because he was sensing Cas’ powers with some sixth sense. He wondered how long it had been something more than that.

 

   How had he never recognised this before? Maybe he had simply never considered it as an option. His stomach flipped as Cas smiled at him shyly and a warmth blossomed in his ribcage.

 

   “Hey Cas,” he said softly and felt the thrill run through him again, felt the certainty of it wash away his fears.

 

   “Hello, Dean. What are you worrying about?”

 

   Dean leant back against the counter, dismissing his relationship issues for a moment. “Should we really be resurrecting Gabriel? I mean, he was dead for a long time. He might have taken a hit for us at the end, but he never really endeared himself to us. A last minute change of heart isn’t the same as being a good person.”

 

   “I can’t account for his personality, but he’s still my brother, Dean,” Cas told him quietly. Dean could almost see the ghosts of a thousand dead angels behind his eyes, and wondered how many of his siblings were left now. No wonder Cas didn’t want to lose any more family.

 

   Dean sighed and closed his eyes, then after a moment of hesitation wrapped his arms around Cas’ neck. Cas folded his arms tightly around him without a pause, holding him up, and he relaxed slightly.

 

   “I know. I’ll try, alright? I’m not even mad at Gabriel, not any more, it’s just Sam’s major saviour complex is going to get us in trouble. I thought we were getting out of the habit of pulling things back from the dead. And I’m worried about Sam, what all that power will do to him. I mean, I trust him with my life, but it’s not like it hasn’t happened before.”

 

   Dean drew back and saw Cas open his mouth to interrupt, but he cut him off. “I know it’s nothing like the demon blood, I know that. But any great power can go bad, Cas, even if you try to do good things with it. Look at me when Death gave me his powers. Look at you with the souls. Even with the demon blood it was because he was trying to do the right thing, you know? I’m not saying that just because Sam’s got Grace he’s going to go evil, I’m just saying that if he doesn’t have something, someone to tie him down, he tends to go off the rails. And if it happens now, it’ll happen big time.”

 

   Cas sighed. “We will just have to trust your brother. If it makes you feel any better, from what I have seen, he seems remarkably well adapted. Although he does seem a little in denial still.”

 

   Dean smiled at him. “Well, let’s just hope it stays that way.” Trust Cas to be optimistic in the face of possible impending doom.

 

   Cas smiled back, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and Dean suddenly noticed how close they were. Close enough to see individual strands of blue in Cas’ eyes, close enough to focus on the slightly frayed skin on his chapped lips.

 

   “Cas,” he murmured.

 

   Dean swallowed, his heart beating in his throat as he leaned in, as Cas leaned in-

 

   And then they were kissing.

 

   He was kissing Cas.

 

   It was clumsy at first, noses bumping and the sudden shock of stubble against his lips, but Cas grinned against his mouth and tilted his head and suddenly they slotted together as though they had been made that way. They wrapped around each other, hands in hair and around waists and on hips, pulling them tightly together in an attempt to become one person. The urgent wet heat of Cas’ mouth on his, the feel of strong arms tugging him closer, it was all intoxicating and Dean gasped into it and pushed back, groaning into Cas’ mouth.

 

   By the time they broke apart Dean’s heart was beating even harder than before but it felt like it was glowing in his chest as Cas grinned back at him, the heat radiating out through his body like a fire that would never burn. For a second they just stood there, swaying giddily, their arms still around each other. Dean felt as if he were floating. This was really happening.

 

   “Thank you, Dean.”

 

   “What for?”

 

   Cas tilted his head. “For not running away from this.”

 

   “Why the hell would I ever run from this?” For some reason that made Cas smile a full gummy smile, and of course then Dean just had to kiss him again. And again.

 

   Some minutes later Cas broke off their kiss with a slight frown.

 

   “Dean, can you smell something?”

 

   Confused, Dean sniffed the air then whipped around to the pan. Swearing profusely, Dean focused on rescuing his burgers from total incineration, feeling Cas’ amused gaze on his back.

 

.o0o.

 

   By the time Dean went in to see Sam again the next morning the fetus was still only about twice the size it had been the day before and Sam was looking a little worse for wear. The tiny pink thing reminded him a little of those growing jelly aliens that he had once bought and put in Sam’s bed as a prank. Hah, grow your own humans.

 

   “The first bit is going to take the longest because that’s when the most can go wrong,” Sam explained to him sulkily. “Once everything’s in the right place it’s only a matter of growing and we can speed that up according to Cas.”

 

   Dean stepped back and looked at him critically. “Have you been sitting there all night?”

 

   “Yeah, I can’t leave it alone yet otherwise it’ll die. I don’t really need to rest, Dean, its fine.”

 

   Despite his words, Dean was noticing familiar smudges appearing beneath Sam’s eyes, and his bad mood was showing. “Well, you don’t look fine, you look tired,” Dean told him bluntly.

 

   “Thanks for that Dean,” Sam grouched, “You can try growing a human body and see how you feel. I swear, I’ll be fine once this is over. It’s just taking a lot out of me, that’s all.”

 

   Dean could physically feel Sam’s mood in the air, an electrical tingling that made the hair on the back of his head stand up. He had the mental image of great wings stirring the air restlessly.

 

   Dean decided on a tactical retreat. “Okay, princess, keep your hair on,” He muttered as he walked back to the door, because mood or not there was no way he would let Sammy have the last word.

 

.o0o.

 

   Sam knew that he had probably come across as grumpy, but at the minute, he didn’t particularly care. As Cas had explained to him, he had to get these parts right, or the whole thing would go wrong.

 

   Initially, Cas had helped a lot with the preparation of the vessel’s DNA, unlocking it and altering the composition of the cell so that it was ready to replicate into the millions upon millions of cells within the human body. He had been the one who tutored Sam on how to jolt the cell back into activity with electricity and how to feed it a steady stream of nutrients, but now that was done he mostly left it up to Sam to do the heavy lifting.

 

   Even when the embryo had been a single cell its chemistry had been complex, a network of chemicals telling it when to grow, when to divide. But that was nothing to the chemical storm that he held between his hands now as limbs began to grow and nerves began to form. There was so much that could go wrong, a misplaced signal here or a chemical there where there shouldn’t be, and they might have to start over. It was just as well that he hadn’t tried to create an entire body from scratch, because now that he understood how complex it was he was astonished that things didn’t go wrong more regularly.

 

   He wasn’t even in control of the growth, the embryo was doing it all under its own steam, all he was really doing was anticipating what nutrients it would need and providing them, and it was still taking most of his concentration. Hence the less than pleased reaction to his brother butting in.

 

   He felt the other soul stir next to his own, reaching out and prodding curiously, and he swatted it down. He couldn’t afford any distractions just yet. Plus that tickled.

 

   Gabriel seemed to have noticed though, because Sam barely had time to turn his attention back to the fragile body in his hands before Gabriel was doing the soul equivalent of merciless tickling, pursuing him when he tried to back away. Sam would have sworn if he had been attached enough to his body, but in his own head there was no way to get away.

 

   Eventually Sam caught the wriggling soul with his Grace and pinned it down, still trying to be gentle despite his irritation. Between its escape attempts it twinkled mock innocently at him, then proceed to try and slip out of his gip like wet soap so that it could continue baiting him.

 

   Sam couldn’t wait until Gabriel got his own body back. Maybe then he would get some peace.

 

.o0o.

 

   The next morning the fetus was the size of an apple, curled up tight in Sam’s enormous hands but now recognisably human, with skinny limbs on its bulbous body and an enormous head. Dean thought it was one of the ugliest looking things that he had ever seen, and he had faced down wendigos.  Sam must have been doing his Professor X thing again because he shot Dean a mild bitchface, which he ignored.

 

   “He’s getting bigger,” Dean remarked.

 

   “Yeah, he’s pretty much out of the development stage now. Thank God, because I think my brain might blow a few fuses if I have to concentrate for much longer.” Sure enough, the bags under Sam’s eyes had deepened to dark bruises, which Dean knew was not meant to happen to any angel, but he did seem to be in a better mood.

 

   “Right. I’m going to work on baby, she hasn’t had a proper wax since we lost Bobby’s place and I was going to fix the dial on the radio.”

 

   Sam waved him away distractedly. “Have fun. Don’t mess with my duffel.”

 

   Dean grinned and retreated. Maybe he could convince Cas to help him with the car. Among other things…

 

.o0o.

 

   When he came by at lunch time, he stopped in the doorway, surprised.

 

   “Woah.”

 

   In a few hours, the thing Sam was holding had transformed from little more than a curl of flesh to a fully formed, if slightly small, baby. It was now too large to be held in Sam’s hands and he was cradling it on his forearm close to his body. Sam grinned at him.

 

   “Yeah, told you he was growing faster.”

 

   As Dean stared the tiny body twitched, a tiny hand gripping one of Sam’s long fingers. He frowned.

 

   “Wait, it moved! Are you sure that body doesn’t have a soul, Sam? Because I’m fine with stuffing Gabe inside an empty meatsuit, but if there’s already someone there-”

 

   Sam waved him off. “No, Dean, it’s fine. It’s a reflex, it just means it’s alive and the nerves are still connecting to the brain. Even earthworms have reflexes. Remember me when I was soulless? Walking and talking and killing doesn’t necessarily mean anybody’s home. Plus I can tell. I can see right through it and believe me, this body is empty. Like an abandoned house. It’s kind of creepy actually, feels really unnatural.”

 

   Dean took Sam’s word for it and nodded, but a sliver of doubt remained. Sam huffed in annoyance.

 

   “Look, maybe I can figure out a way to show you, then you can see what I mean and you might actually believe me.”

 

   “I wasn’t… what do you mean, ‘show me’?”

 

   But Sam was already leaning forwards, his business face firmly on. Dean sighed and, after a moment’s hesitation, touched his forehead to Sam’s outstretched fingertips.

 

   Instantly the world was burning, eating away at him like acid with sharp unforgiving light. He pulled away with a yelp and rubbed his stinging eyes.

 

   “Jesus, Sam! Turn it down a little!”

 

   Sam was wincing, the arm holding the baby curling in tighter “Shit. Sorry. I thought I was shielding you enough but obviously not.” He shifted a little, glowing eyes going unfocused for a second before locking back onto Dean. “There. Got it now.”

 

   Dean avoided the reaching fingers. “Are you sure? ‘Cos I don’t fancy by eyeballs getting fried extra crispy. Also, aren’t you meant to be saving your juice for fetus face?”

 

   Sam rolled his eyes, beckoning impatiently with his fingers. Warily, Dean leaned in again.

 

   It wasn’t as eye-scorchingly bright this time, but it was still enough to make him wince. In his new vision, the walls and floor glowed subtly, but Sam was made of light, painful to look at, and it oozed out of him and seeped into the musty air. Dean gasped as he saw the great wings behind him, half-spread and twitching slightly, the bulk of them out of sight where they passed through the floor. The air around him stirred, as though it was full of invisible _things_ , just out of sight.

 

   It hadn’t really sunk in until that moment that Sam was actually an angel. Yes, he knew exactly what had happened, but Sam still acted like Sam most of the time, still bitched at him and got annoyed when he was being a dick. Except for those moments where he was slightly too stiff or too fast, but those were getting rarer by the day.

 

   He realised that the wings were trembling subtly, and he could see through the glare that Sam’s face was scrunched in concentration. “Just get on with it, Dean,” he gritted, his voice resounding sharper and deeper than normal in his ears, and Dean realised how much effort it must be taking to reign himself in so Dean wouldn’t get blinded.

 

   “Yeah. Right.”

 

   He looked down at the baby in Sam’s lap. On its surface there was a residual glow, the same as of the walls, but inside it was dark. Dark and empty. Like a negative space.  Looking down and comparing it to the glowing ball in his own chest, he knew that Sam was right. Empty as the Winchesters’ living family tree.

 

   “Okay, I believe you. You were right, it’s fucking creepy. You can drop the human torch act.”

 

   The light snapped off like a switch, plunging everything into relative darkness. Dean blinked a few times, adjusting, and watched Sam breathing heavily for oxygen he didn’t need as though he had just come back from a run. He wondered what his wings were doing right now.

 

   “Well. That was educational. Nice wings, by the way.” Sam grinned at him.

 

   “So, if there isn’t a soul in there, aren’t you worried about it going terminator? I mean, you were bad enough when you were soulless, but remember those other people who went psycho?”

 

   “I asked Cas about that. Apparently, if the body never has a soul and is never conscious, then there are no memories so it can’t do anything on its own. So don’t worry about him stabbing you in your sleep. Besides, I’m going to be down here most of the time anyway.”

 

   Dean looked at him critically. “If you’re sure. Well,” he got up and stretched to get the knots out of his shoulders. “Do you need anything else? Sandwich? Beer? Another half a cow?”

 

   Sam laughed and shook his head.

 

   “Well then, I’d better go do some research. There’s what I think is a ghoul eating people on the east coast, I need to go call someone in to cover it.”

 

   Sam called after him as he was about to leave. “Thanks Dean. You know, for understanding.”

 

   “Whatever,” he grunted back, but he was smiling and he was pretty sure that Sam could see right through him anyway.

 

                                                                 .o0o.                 

 

   The body’s rate of growth continued to increase at an almost worrying pace. Gabriel’s vessel looked like a one year old by the end of the evening, and by the next morning there was a chubby toddler curled in a blanket on the dungeon floor.

  

   “Someone’s finally got his hair.”

 

   Sam grinned up at him, his large palm still cupped around the vessel’s head, making it look smaller than it actually was by comparison. The white-blonde of the boy’s hair stood out like strands of silver against Sam’s tanned skin. “Yeah, it was really late coming in. I was worried something had gone wrong and Gabriel was going to have a bald vessel for a few hours.”

 

   “Speaking of Gabriel, or his soul anyway, how’s he doing in there? Still kicking? Has he annoyed the fuck out of you yet?”

 

   “Oh yeah, he’s fine. Stopped wriggling after a while. I think he likes the company.”

 

   “Awwww, Sammy. It’s so cute that you’ve made a friend.”

 

   Sam sent him a full-power bitchface, but it was worth it.

 

   He sat next to Sam for a while to keep him company, chatting about the LARPing event that Charlie had invited him to. He tentatively asked Sam about some of the weirder aspects of his new condition, and got a detailed description of how strange it was having multiple sets of eyes and new limbs.

 

   The longer they talked, the more Dean noticed the small body lying between them actively growing, the limbs and hair lengthening like a speeded up film. By the time he left to grab lunch the child could easily have been five years old and Sam requested a larger blanket to wrap him in. “I’m feeding him enough energy as it is without him losing it all again as body heat,” he complained, gesturing at the cool underground air.

 

   Dean brought in one of the thick grey woollen blankets that the Men of Letters had left in the store cupboards. Sam went to find Cas (something about needing more materials- the half a cow wasn’t rotting but Dean was surprised to note that it was almost completely gone, just a little bone and gristle left).

 

   Dean carefully swaddled the tiny body in the blanket as though it was made of glass, trying not to touch it. The kid was as limp as a corpse, and even though he knew that the body could sustain itself perfectly fine without Sam there all the time now, he was still slightly relieved then he gently touched under the chin (just to make sure) and felt living warmth and a fast but steady heartbeat.

 

   He almost ruffled its hair, but he caught his hand before he actually did it. He frowned at himself. It would be weird to feel attached; there was literally nothing there, it was just a body, not a person. He had seen it for himself. Not to mention, the person who it was intended for was a certified dick. Gabriel had killed him on multiple occasions, put Sam through who-the-hell knew what judging by his face every time Asia came on the radio and finally, to top it all off, he had messed with his baby. There were no take backs from that kind of crap as far as Dean was concerned, even if he had helped them finish the apocalypse, and Dean would have been more than willing to let him rest in pieces. But Sam had made his own decisions about it, and Dean wasn’t unhappy enough to put up a fuss.

 

   He could even see where Sam’s logic was coming from; Sam felt indebted to Gabriel, almost as though he had asked for broken bits of Grace to be jammed into his soul. He wanted to give something back. The kid had always had a guilt complex. Dean wondered if Sam knew what he was getting himself into here, though, bringing back something that had been dead for so long. The dead were meant to stay dead. And yes, he was aware of the irony in that belief.

 

   He couldn’t quite find it in himself to hate the body though, or even to dislike it really, as much as he disliked its soon-to-be occupant. Just sitting next to it gave him flashbacks from when Sammy was little, curled up next to him on the leather of the impala’s back seat, warm and sleep-limp, illuminated only by the periodic drab glow of street lights passing by outside. The memory was so strong that he could almost smell the old leather and whisky and gunpowder heavy in his nostrils, almost see the back of John’s head silhouetted in the seat in front.

 

   The vessel was just a child; Dean was privately pretty sure that if the manifestation of pure evil came to him in baby form, he would still be cooing over it like a mother hen. His parental streak ran too deep for him to hold any sort of grudge.

 

   He sighed deeply and gave in, ruffling the mop of soft hair with a hand, and grinned when the small fingers gripped the blanket tighter reflexively, still deep in sleep. He could get around to hating Gabriel later.

 

.o0o.

 

   When Dean walked in the next morning, coffee in hand and grey robe still on, there was a teenager lying on the floor next to Sam, who had his head buried in a book, flicking through the pages so fast that he couldn’t actually be reading it.

 

   “Morning,” he said, not looking up.

 

   Dean grunted at him and inspected the progress. The body looked as though it was on the cusp of puberty, the face starting to lose the early chubbiness and the features looking more like the Gabriel that they had met.

 

   “He’s gonna need clothes.”

 

   “Huh?” Sam looked up at him.

 

   “Well, judging the way the vessel looks like he’s about to sprout a beard, I’m guessing that this whole thing is only going to take a few more days. Once you stuff Gabriel into sleeping beauty here, he’s going to need something to actually wear. Unless he likes walking around naked. Actually, I wouldn’t put that past him.”

 

   Sam looked thoughtful. “Good point, I’ll have to ask Cas to go get some.”

 

   Dean quickly held up a hand. “No, no, don’t bother Cas, I’ll go do it.”

 

   “Are you sure? I don’t think he’d mind.”

 

   Dean shifted his feet. “Look, man, you might not suffer from cabin fever any more, but some of us still need to get out sometimes. Cas would have no idea what to pick out. Plus, I texted Charlie about this whole thing while you were away and she’s coming to visit, so I’m going to need a supply run anyway.”

 

   Sam looked a little guilty. “Sorry about keeping you cooped up here, it’s just…”

 

   Dean ruffled his hair and Sam jerked away irritably. He changes species and he’s still prissy about his hair. “Yeah yeah, you can’t leave, not your fault. I’m sure we’ll be back to kicking supernatural ass on the road again soon enough. Anyway, sticking around here has been nice. Kind of like a really sucky, stressful vacation.”

 

   “Whatever. I’m glad Charlie’s coming, anyway.”

 

.o0o.

 

   Dean was grinning as he fired up the impala and drove out towards town, window rolled down as far as it could go. No matter how fancy the bunker was, no matter how much magical protection it offered, that didn’t stop it from being an underground concrete bunker.

 

   He was still whistling as he pulled out his phone to text Charlie, only to find that she had texted him first.

 

|Coming over, about an hour till I get there, see u soon :)|

 

   Dean groaned at the smiley face. The emoticons were rubbing off, they were like an infectious disease.

 

   |Have you been texting Cas again? Going to town, meet me there?|

 

   She agreed and they organised to meet at the diner on the main street.

 

 

   Dean walked in, a bell chiming to announce his arrival, and looked around expectantly. He grinned widely when he saw Charlie waving wildly at him from a table by the window. Striding up to her he swept her into a crushing hug, which she enthusiastically reciprocated, squeezing like she was trying to crack his ribs.

 

   He held her at arm’s length. “God, it’s good to see you Charlie. You have no idea how weird it’s been around here lately.”

 

   She laughed, punching him in the shoulder. “Why do you guys always get to have all the fun? If you keep taking all the drama there’s not going to be enough to go around.”

 

   “Trust me, there is more than enough to go around.”

 

   They sat down opposite each other in the booth. Charlie stirred her coffee with her eyes fixed on Dean.

 

   “Alright. I’m ready. Spill the beans, Winchester. I want to know everything.” Dean grinned, launching into an in-depth explanation of everything that had happened since the witches had kidnapped Sam.

 

   “So now there’s an empty vessel in the basement, we’re resurrecting an archangel, and I’m officially the only human left in the bunker.” Dean concluded ten minutes later. Charlie brushed a strand of red hair out of her eyes and sipped her latte pensively.

 

   “Wow, you guys have really had it rough recently, huh?”

 

   “No more than usual. And while we’re on the subject of our lives, will you _please_ stop telling people about those goddamned books? It was bad enough when it was just literature, but now there’s a weird play, a TV series, I had to guide Cas away from all the merch in Hot Topic the other month…”

 

   “Not to mention the fan fiction,” Charlie muttered into her drink.

 

   “What was that?”

 

   “Nothing. How is Cas, anyway?”

 

   “Oh, you know, same old. He’s better than he’s been for a while at the moment actually, ever since Sam fixed his wings up.” Dean looked down into the dregs of his drink and tried not to remember the enthusiastic goodbye kiss that Cas had given him before he drove out. He felt himself blushing anyway.

 

   “Uh huh.” Charlie’s smile was just a little too knowing.

 

   Dean cleared his throat roughly. “So, are we going shopping or what?”

 

 

   After they filled the trunk with food, they went into the nearest Goodwill and picked out some clothing that they thought might fit Gabriel from what Dean remembered. In petty vengeance, Dean picked out some delightful floral numbers as well as regular clothes, but he did manage to find a jacket similar to the one that Gabriel had been wearing when he first met them.

 

   They arrived back later than he thought they would, bellowing “Honey, I’m home!” at the top of his voice as they descended the spiral staircase, their arms full of bulging bags.

 

   “Good evening Dean,” Cas called back much to Charlie’s amusement, taking some of the bags from them as they walked towards the kitchen. “It is good to see you again, Charlie.”

 

   “You too, Cas,” she said with a grin, glancing between him and Dean, “So, when do I get to see your latest addition? I need to cross ‘archangel’ off my supernatural creature spotting list.”

 

   Dean smiled at her. “Do you mean Sam or Gabriel? Come on, down here, this way.” Dean led her towards the dungeon, leaving Castiel to put away the shopping.

 

   “Sam!” Charlie beamed as she walked in and Sam beamed back, unfolding to his full height with slightly more grace than was natural after sitting on the floor for four days and wrapping her in another bear hug.

 

   “Charlie! Wow, it’s good to see you.”

 

   “Back atcha. You haven’t changed at all.” She drew back to inspect him, looking slightly disappointed, as though he had thought that she would see fluffy wings sprouting from Sam’s back. Sam must have been able to see what Charlie was thinking, because he grinned as well.

 

   “Nice to see you too, Sam,” Dean commented. Sam ignored him.

 

   Charlie was looking down at the body next to them.

 

   “Is that really Gabriel? The archangel?” she whispered.

 

   “Yeah. Well, not yet,” Sam replied, “That’s just a vessel. You don’t have to whisper, he’s not really sleeping. And anyway, he’ll be human when we bring him back.”

 

   Sam’s eyes were flicking over Charlie’s torso, and she must have noticed because she raised an eyebrow at him. He flushed.

 

   “No, of course I wasn’t checking you out! I was actually looking at your soul. I haven’t seen a red one yet, it’s really pretty.”

 

   “Oh my god, you read my mind! And you can see my soul! That is so cool!”

 

   “Not nearly as fun as it sounds, believe me,” Sam grumbled.

 

   “Okay, what am I thinking now?” Dean snorted and left them to nerd out. Cas probably needed help putting away the shopping anyway.

 

.o0o.

 

   Finally, it was done. The body was ready.    

 

   Sam took his hand away and flexed his fingers. Even after having been resting for so long in the same position, his fingers weren’t cramped or even stiff, but they felt a little… odd. As though the muscles remembered the exact curve of the vessel’s skull.

 

   He called for Cas, and he and Dean entered the dungeon with a curious Charlie trailing behind.

 

   “Could you check him over for me, Cas? I wouldn’t want to stuff Gabriel in a defective body.”

 

   Cas came and knelt by the vessel, gently laying a hand on his forehead and closing his own eyes. Sam watched as Castiel’s Grace flashed out, scanning through the blood vessels and nervous system before retreating. A second later Cas opened his eyes and smiled at Sam, his wings relaxing against his back.

 

   “It is perfect, Sam. You have done exceedingly well with this, you have a natural talent I think. We should insert Gabriel as soon as possible. It is not good for souls to be unconscious for too long, even if Gabriel has proven himself to being remarkably resilient and you are protecting him.”

 

   “Well, let’s get this party started!” Dean clapped his hands and rubbed them together, bouncing up and down slightly on the balls of his feet.

 

   “Wait!” Charlie interjected, “Are we really going to do it here? In the dungeon? Because I don’t know about you, but I think I would freak out a bit if I got resurrected in a torture chamber.” They all looked around, taking in the admittedly dismal settings.

 

   “Good call, Charlie. We can use my room.” Sam gently picked the limp body off the floor and hefted it into his arms without effort.

 

   Dean’s thoughts gave an odd twist. “Why your room?”

 

   “Because it’s made up already, and it’s not as though I’m using it. I’m not sleeping any more. Why?”

 

   Dean grunted and led the way out, Charlie following him and shooting a grin at Sam as he passed. Slightly confused, Sam glanced over to Cas, but he seemed completely oblivious to everyone else’s odd behaviour. He gave a mental shrug and felt his wings instinctively ruffle and resettle themselves on his back as he followed them out of the storeroom.

 

   Going into his room, Sam laid the vessel out on the bed while the others clustered behind him like inquisitive cats. He could feel Cas prepared to step in and help him to reinsert the soul, but he felt his new instincts rising to the surface again with the knowledge of how to do it. He reached out and brushed up against Cas’ Grace in what he hoped was a reassuring way. Cas flinched back from the contact and he saw him wince. Oops. Maybe not that gentle then.

 

   He reached inside to where the soul was coiled within the white-hot burning centre of his Grace, where his own soul was protected. Thankfully he appeared to be resting, so Sam caught told of him easily and slowly pulled him out, carefully peeling him away despite his weak attempts to cling to Sam for warmth. The soul dug in with tiny hooks, refusing to let go of him. Finally he managed to push the wriggling soul away, holding it gingerly on the very edges of his Grace.

 

   Sam opened his eyes again. A dim golden light was glowing from his palm. He reached down, pressing his hand into the metaphysical space between the vessel’s ribs, and the golden ball of light reluctantly let him go and shivered, settling into place.

 

   He withdrew his hand and sat back, watching the golden light loop out and flow through the veins and arteries and coil in the recesses of the brain. The glow grew brighter, pulsing along with the vessel’s heartbeat, until the air around Gabriel’s body seemed to glow with the soft yellow illumination. 

 

   “Woah,” Charlie breathed from behind him. Sam had forgotten that Charlie had never seen a soul before. He could feel the gentle coils of wonder coming from her, reaching out towards them.

 

   Finally the soul settled, his body still lying unconscious on the bed, chest gently rising and falling.

 

   “What now?” Charlie asked.

 

   “Well,” Cas suggested, “Shall we try to wake him up?”

 

 


	4. Never Go Full Human

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told entirely from Gabriel's perspective

  

   Nothing.

 

 

   Cold, nothing.

 

 

   Nothing, cold.

 

 

   Then, suddenly, darkness.

 

   That was a shock to the system and they cringed from it. Darkness had depth and substance, so different from the infinite oblivion that they had been floating in for how long they didn’t know.

 

   They jolted when they felt the darkness shift. There was something out there, in the shadows! They tried instinctively to move away, but it was all around them and it was strong. The darkness pulled at them, teased them apart and they were still so _cold_ that it hurt, cold like their heart had been dipped in liquid nitrogen-

 

   The shifting darkness around them tugged at their edges, tearing at their memories, and they tried to wriggle away from the pain but it had them in an iron grip. Hadn’t they been powerful, once? Hadn’t they been strong? But now they were so small and weak that they could barely even think. They could do nothing but endure.

 

   Eventually the pain stopped and the monster in the dark retreated. There was nothing to count the days, and their thoughts would rip themselves up as soon as they formed, like a candle in a hurricane. There was no way to record time passing, just the aching pressure of loneliness. Sometimes, in their brief moments of lucidity, they even wished that the monster was with them again; even pain was better than an eternity alone.

 

 

   They were startled again when the light came.

 

   Something grabbed them again but it was warm this time and didn’t rip at them. The light was blindingly bright and it surrounded them, like watching a supernova of fury and power from the inside. With the light came blessed warmth, and they struggled desperately closer, even though the brightness burnt at them like acid.

 

   Finally they reached the centre, and the light dimmed to a soft amber glow, but the heat was still there, warm and close around them like a blanket. They were content just to drift through it for a while, finally relaxing into it and looking around in awe. Whatever they were in, it was huge. The structure of its soul was as large as a cathedral, all soaring pillars and columns stretching into the distance. They watched the swirl of thoughts and emotions like gossamer currents where it was wrapped around them, cradling them. It was a comforting sensation.

 

   Thoughts trickled in over time, finally percolating through their wisp of consciousness that was only now starting to reform.

 

   Where were they?

 

   Wait, _who_ were they?

 

   Before they could summon the energy to address the troubling thoughts, the thing that was holding them _moved_ with a lurch. It churned, reaching inside itself, tugging at them gently.

 

   _No!_ They weren’t going out into the cold and the nothing, not again. They fought, hooking themselves in and clinging to the pillars, but the thing gently teased them out despite their struggles, holding them with steel cable fingers, pushing them out into the aether.

 

   Then they were going down, down, down into something else. There was warmth, not as warm as the soul that had held them so carefully, but infinitely better than the void. Reluctantly, they let go.

 

   Something jerked in the heart of them and there was a flash of light and cold and memory, so painful but they couldn’t look away. Their brother stared them down, his human eyes almost as chilly blue as the ones which drilled into them from the looming multitude of his heads. There was a double pounding in their ears, their vessel’s heart going wild against their ribs, breaking out of their control. They were suddenly afraid, deathly afraid, even though they had known it was coming, they couldn’t win against this thing that had once been their brother, only buy the humans and Kali a little time-

 

   The blade was a bolt of cold-sharp-pain under their ribs as Lucifer twisted, and they were choking on the coppery tang on the back of their tongue as the tip pierced their Grace. They were an implosion of heat and light and they couldn’t think, there was just heat and pressure and they were being ripped apart the instant before they were scattered-

 

   The pain was still there, why was it still there, why weren’t they gone? Why wasn’t it over? They dragged air into their lungs and coughed, then again, and again, retching as every single nerve ending of their vessel lit up with violent sensation.

 

   They tried to draw back, to retreat into the fabric of reality away from the flesh, but the well where they kept their Grace wasn’t there. Where was it?! Where did it go?

 

   Wait.

 

   Where was their Grace?

 

   They were shocked into silence and stillness for a second, then they shuddered with the rising horror and terror, nausea forcing its way up their throat and clenching their insides with an iron fist, but there was nothing to come up. They were stripped, broken. The scream forced its way up their throat instead of vomit.

 

   Distantly, they were aware of hands supporting their body on its side as it quivered, rubbing between the shoulder blades, but the comforting touch was nearly obliterated by the violence of intense sensations from inside the body, their stomach twisting and the terror making their pounding pulse ring in their ears. Likewise, they barely heard the voices having a conversation over the tumult.

 

   “Gabriel? Can you hear me?”

 

   “What a pansy. When I got resurrected, I didn’t try and puke _my_ guts up. And then I had to dig out of my own grave.”

 

   “Shut up, Dean.”

 

   “Yeah Dean, shut up, and while you’re at it go get me another blanket. He’s still too cold.”

 

   “You’re the one with the mojo, why can’t you warm him up yourself? Wait, that sounded wrong.”

 

   A terse sigh. “Because I don’t really want to boil him by accident. You know I’m not exactly a precision instrument at the moment. Now go get a blanket. Could you help him please, Charlie?”

 

   The sound of grumbling and the clomping of rapidly departing boots. They lay limp, dazed. Gabriel; that was their name. Why couldn’t they stop shivering? Why couldn’t they open their vessel’s eyes?

 

   “Cas, why isn’t he responding? Why did he scream like that? I didn’t make a mistake with the resurrection, did I?”

 

   “No, Sam, you did perfectly. It is probable that the process awakened the last memories from before he died.”

 

   “Oh. Right.”

 

   “He might need more time to adjust to his new… condition. It may be wise to allow him to sleep until he is ready to wake up.”

 

   “Good idea. Would you do it? If I try, I might put him into a coma.”

 

   A pair of fingers gently touched their forehead, and the world faded away.

 

.o0o.

 

   Whoever had spoken before was wrong. So wrong. They didn’t feel better at all when they woke up. Every inch of their vessel ached, inside and out, sharp and immediate, and there was no room to retreat, nowhere to escape from the pain. Their guts still felt as though they were being twisted and stretched, like there were snakes coiling through their internal organs.

 

   Gabriel took stock without opening his eyes. The body felt familiar and comfortable, and he could tell without even looking that he was back in his old vessel (and it was enough of an adjustment to realise that he was a _he_ now. Wow. He actually had a gender). Past the unpleasant sensations, he could tell that his vessel was on its back, lying down on something soft and yielding. His body felt slightly chilled, despite the warm weight that indicated that he was under a mound of blankets.

 

   He felt incredibly heavy, as though the limbs were plated in lead. Gabriel hadn’t realised until now how much energy it took to move a human body around. He shifted slightly, trying to ease the discomfort, then felt his breath hitch into a tiny muffled moan as the throbbing turned to a sharp stab.

 

   Wait. How long had he been breathing?

 

   Also, was that…? Yes, that regular throbbing was a heartbeat. Right there in his chest. Taking none of his concentration to keep going whatsoever. And he was still breathing. And not thinking about it.

 

   There was only one conclusion to come to, really. He had always suspected how much humanity would suck.

 

   “Are you going to admit that you’re awake, or are you going to lie there and mull it over forever?”

 

   Slowly, Gabriel hitched his eyelids open, blinking against the glare as his pupils adjusted.

 

   Warm light illuminated a sparsely decorated room and glinted off the long chestnut hair and solid shoulders of the human (probably, and it was so annoying not to be able to definitely tell) sitting on a chair next to the bed.

 

   Gabriel squinted. Nope, not even a glimmer. He couldn’t see a thing. Hang on, did that human look familiar? Suddenly, he wished that he had paid more attention to the vessels of the people that he had met rather than just looking at their souls. Then he recalled the voice from a second before and it clicked into place.

 

   “Sam Winchester?”

 

   He winced at the rasp of his voice, but Sam grinned, the bastard. The words had come out barely intelligible, mostly because Gabriel’s tongue stuck to the inside of his throat, feeling thick and clumsy and bristly. As well as that, his mouth felt awkward and foreign around the words now that he had to form them himself rather than instructing his body to do it for him. How did humans put up with this _all the time?_

But wow, Gabriel really had to give Sam credit for surviving way longer than Gabriel thought he would. At least the humans had got away from Luci, even if Dad had decided that the middle of the apocalypse was the time to grow a particularly bad sense of humour then dump him with the Losechesters. Speaking of which.

 

   “Ugh. Why would my Dad resurrect me as a human right in the middle of the apocalypse? And then leave me with you guys? I mean, I know he likes to make it a challenge, but come on.”

 

   Sam’s expression faltered, eyebrows raising, as though his face glitched for a second.

 

   “Um... Well. Would you like to hear the good news or the bad news?”

 

   Gabriel felt the familiar sensation of creeping dread. “Better be the good news.”

 

   “Well, the apocalypse never happened. We won.”

 

   Gabriel scoffed at him, then took in his expression. “Wait, you’re serious?”

 

   Gabriel boggled slightly, as though his brain just couldn’t accept what his ears were telling him. The apocalypse, over? It just wasn’t possible, not without half the earth being obliterated and one of his dear brothers lording it over them.

 

   “Mind you, we did manage to almost start a few more. Only little ones, though.”

 

   “What… How?” Gabriel’s stupid human brain was still stalled over the words, his mind stuck like a record of disbelief. “Wait, so what did you do? Did you kill Lucifer? And Michael?” There was a flare of hope at the same time as a pang of grief at the thought of both of his older brothers being gone. How could he feel such opposite emotions simultaneously? They were so contradictory.

 

   “No, we followed your plan, stuffed them into the cage.”

 

   “Oh,” Gabriel huffed, “Didn’t think for a second that would actually work.”

 

   “Yeah, well, it wasn’t easy, believe me,” Sam looked away, rubbing the palm of his hand unconsciously. There was a whole other horrifying story there, Gabriel just knew it. But he would have to force it out of Sam another time, because there were other, more important questions to ask right now.

 

   “How long was I…gone?” Dead didn’t seem like the right word for the endless vacuum that he’d been stuck in.

 

   “About six years.”

 

   Gabriel mulled that over for a second. He could believe that. Now that he was looking at Sam, he could see the wear on his face, more creases in the corner of his eyes and his ridiculous hair longer than he remembered. And his eyes… damn. The kid looked _old_. “So, you said something about bad news?”

 

   “Oh. Yeah. Well, it wasn’t exactly God who resurrected you.”

 

   Gabriel squinted in thought. Kali, maybe? “Alright, I’ll bite. Who did it?”

 

   “Me, actually.” Sam grinned sheepishly and Gabriel frowned at him in confusion. “Well, Cas did help out a lot. I don’t exactly have a lot of experience with stuff like this.”

 

   “Wait, so… what do you mean?” Gabriel was deeply confused. Everything about this situation was as clear as pea soup. “Because you couldn’t resurrect me anyway. Your little guardian angel couldn’t resurrect me. Raphael wouldn’t have bothered. Even if Michael decided to remove his exceptionally large head from his ass about the apocalypse he would let me rot in hell before he made me human. Only daddy dearest has that sort of firepower and the motive, and he hasn’t exactly been overflowing with generosity recently. Not to mention that without a slow Fall or a complete rebirth, I wouldn’t have had a soul, so if you removed my Grace that would have been it, party’s over. And I still have all my memories. I think.”

 

   Sam actually perked up at that a little, grinning at Gabriel as though he knew something he didn’t. It was so infuriating not to be able to pluck the answer from his puny mind. “Actually, we didn’t have to convert anything. Looks like you had a soul before we got to you.”

 

   Gabriel almost didn’t believe him when he said that either, but given the evidence that the party was still going and he was indeed a human he had no choice but to accept the facts. “Wow, looks like old Luci was right. Humanity is like an infectious disease after all. How did you drag me back though? What happened?”

 

   Sam grimaced. “Bit of a long story. Anyway, you’ve got to be starving.”

 

   He allowed the obvious deflection with a note that he could always get back to interrogating or tormenting Sam later. Up until that point Gabriel had been doing his best to ignore the strange ache from deep inside his abdomen, but after Sam mentioned it the pain returned with a vengeance.

 

   “I dunno,” he said uncertainly, (and Father did he hate being uncertain about anything,) “I think I feel… sick?” It was all very well making some scumbag vomit up his lunch for bullying small children, but the sensation was entirely different when it was happening to him. Harder and more twisting than he would have thought possible. And he hadn’t fully appreciated the way that it made his thoughts blur, the unpleasant sensations making it hard to concentrate, impossible to think past.

 

   Sam offered him another grin and a hand to help him up. “Yeah, that’s because you’re hungry. I used to get it sometimes in the mornings.”

 

   _Used to?_ Gabriel thought, but then he was being pulled bodily upright and the nausea was coupled with a swimming dizziness. After waiting a second to see if he could sit up on his own, Sam casually manhandled him backwards until he was sitting with his back against the headboard, still with the blankets clutched around him. Gabriel tried to glare at him (he would have been fine on his own! He was an archangel, he could manage sitting up!) but it was hard when his lungs couldn’t seem to hold enough air. He hadn’t even done anything on his own yet and he was already gasping like he was on a marathon. He leaned back and closed his eyes at the feeling of all the blood draining out of his head and upper body at the change in position. When had dad decided that vessels were a _good idea?!_  

 

   Sam eyed him critically, probably making sure he could stay upright on his own before he made for the door. “I’m just going to get something.”

 

   As soon as Sam’s oversized legs disappeared around the corner, Gabriel flopped back against the pillows with a sigh, unable to muster the will to remain fully vertical any longer. Despite the discomfort from his stomach he may have dropped back into sleep again, because when he next opened his eyes a finger was prodding him on the shoulder. He jolted and blinked up at the blurry hazel eyes hovering above him.

 

   “Hey, come on, you need to drink. Sit up again or you’ll choke.” He was pulled upright again as he looked around. There were two other men standing around his bed now, looking quite imposing as they loomed over him. A woman with bright red hair peeked around them curiously.

 

   “It is good to see you again, Gabriel,” gritted out the one in the long beige trenchcoat with the brilliant blue eyes. What had he been doing, gargling with iron filings?

 

   "Wow. You look like shit," the other man commented. 

 

   “Let me guess. Dean,” Gabriel said, pointing a finger towards the one insulting him with the green eyes and lighter hair, “And is that… Cas? Wow, little bro, you look different when I can only see the vessel. Fewer heads. And fewer tentacles. You, however,” He pointed at the woman before his arm gave up and flopped back into the ridiculous blanket pile on his lap, “I have no idea who you are.”

 

   Sam snorted and held out a bottle of water, ignoring Dean’s sputters of disbelief behind him. “Got them in one. This is Charlie, by the way, but you never met her. Here, drink this.”

 

   Gabriel took it and looked down at the clear liquid inside dubiously, then back up at Sam’s serious eyes. “Go on. Just don’t drink it all at once, or you’ll regret it.” Gabriel arched a distaining eyebrow at Sam’s expression and drew the bottle towards himself. He could handle water.

 

   Then, as it moved, the water sloshed against the sides of the bottle. At the sound Gabriel’s salivary glands seemed to explode, and the neck of the bottle was at his lips before he had consciously moved it. The water poured down his throat in smooth swallows as his body responded instinctively, almost automatic in its desperation. He hadn’t realised that he was so thirsty, hadn’t even realised what thirst _was,_ but now his body was singing as if he was drinking liquid heaven. It sloshed into his empty stomach and he could almost feel his parched body absorbing it like a sponge.

 

   “Wait, you might want to…” Sam reached out to grab the bottle from him, but he was too late. “Take it slow.” He pulled the empty bottle from Gabriel’s now slack grasp with a sigh.

 

   Now that he had finished, Gabriel stared down at his own hands, shocked at the strength of his reaction. There was something slightly disturbing about how little control he seemed to have over his body’s responses. Was it like this for all of them? Or was it because it was new to him?

 

   The gloriously hydrated feeling lasted for maybe a few seconds before his stomach twisted in discomfort. He grimaced in response.

 

   “You’re going to be sick now, aren’t you?” Dean was grinning at him, the sadist. The girl, Charlie, passed the bucket over and Sam handed it to him.

 

   Gabriel soon decided that he never wanted to throw up again. The acid burnt the back of his throat as his body took over again, his entire torso spasming with painful contractions. When it was over he felt even weaker than before, his limbs wobbly and his eyes swimming as he groaned.

 

   Dean snickered. “Thought a guy as old as you would be able to hold his water.” Gabriel found that despite his exhaustion he still had enough energy to flip Dean off.

 

   Once his stomach had calmed a little Sam handed him another bottle. “Take it easy this time, alright?” Gabriel nodded, taking a few sips before setting it down again, resisting the urge this time to glug the entire thing. Next he was handed an energy bar, but Sam had to take it back from his shaking fingers and unwrap it for him, his hands refusing to grip anything, and Gabriel couldn’t even find the energy to scowl at him for treating him like a fledgling. He could hear the others talking above his head, but it felt as though his entire being was focused in the food in front of him. Sam might have noticed the slightly frantic look in his eye because he hesitated before handing it back to him.

 

   “Don’t eat it all at once or you’ll throw up again.” Gabriel nodded and reached for the food, tearing off a bite with his teeth and trying to chew it slowly. The taste seemed to explode on his tongue, a thousand times more intense than he remembered and he moaned with his eyes closed. He heard Dean snort, but found that he didn’t give a single fuck. He was just too tired. After a few more bites he was finding it harder and harder to keep his eyes open, and he felt Sam pull the bottle from his fingers when it began to tilt.

 

   “Come on. You need to sleep. We’ll talk again later.” Large hands pushed him down and pulled the blankets back over him. He wanted to protest, to panic about the foreign sensation of dropping off the cliff into unconsciousness, but his tiredness won and he dropped off the edge into a deep sleep.

 

  


	5. You Weren't Supposed to Blow the Bloody Doors Off

   Gabriel was flying again.

 

   He wobbled slightly on the currents of reality as he tried to coordinate his many sets of wings, still downy with his first feathers. All the universe stretched out below him in a glorious spread, sparkling new in the First Light, and he shrieked in delight as he slipped through the aether and began to tumble. He wasn’t afraid. His big brother would catch him.

 

   And there was Lucifer, waiting for him with arms outstretched, brighter than a star and glorious with it, all his wings spread in welcome.

 

   But when he got close enough to see his faces they were twisted and blackened, rotted and tarred, and the outstretched arms held knives, and they stabbed deep as he fell into them, twisting-

 

   Someone was shaking him, gripping his shoulders tight. He fought, thrashing, then looked up into a concerned set of blue-brown-green eyes and blinked, realising that he was gasping for breath and his heart was beating hard enough that he could hear the blood pounding in his ears. He had always thought that was a metaphor, but apparently not.

 

   “You were having a dream,” Sam told him solemnly. Yeah, no shit Sherlock, Gabriel felt like replying, but his throat was locked up and strangely achy. He grunted and shoved Sam away, and Sam let him go easily, sitting back.

 

   Gabriel reached up with a heavy, shaking hand to push the hair out of his face and grimaced when the movement made him realise that he was uncomfortably damp. Was that all sweat on his face? Ugh, his vessel was leaking from everywhere. Sweat was one of the worst ideas his Father had ever had, in his opinion. That and vomiting.

 

   “What time is it?” he croaked.

 

   “Two thirty in the morning,” Sam replied quietly. “You slept for a day and a half. We were getting worried.”

 

   Gabriel noticed that the already large pile of blankets that had been on him the last time had grown to ridiculous proportions. “Were you trying to smother me in my sleep?”

 

   Sam cracked a half smile at that. “Dean tried once or twice, but don’t worry, me and Charlie managed to fight him off eventually. You might have lost some brain cells in the process, though.”

 

   Gabriel lay limply for a second and evaluated his situation. The haze over his mind from the last time he had woken had mostly lifted, and although his body still ached and there was that weird pit in his stomach again, he didn’t feel too bad. Apart from the great empty ache in his chest, of course. That didn’t put him in an especially good mood. And the fact that he had _lost his fucking grace_. Well, at least someone else hadn’t stolen it, that would have been worse.

 

   As soon as he thought that he saw Sam’s face drop into a worried woebegone expression, almost as if he could read his thoughts, and yeah, maybe he should try to lighten up a little. But he had gone from one of the most powerful creatures in the universe to human. He was allowed to be salty.

 

   Maybe it was time to try for some independent movement. The sooner he was up and about, the sooner he could get away from the Winchesters. Then he would… well. He’d figure something out.

 

   He moved the blankets off and pushed back with his arms, trying to get upright, but the muscles didn’t seem to respond properly. Sam saw him struggling and offered him a large hand. Gabriel looked at it for a second, then took it reluctantly and pulled himself up with some effort, arms still shaking from exertion.

 

   “Woah,” he muttered, swaying slightly as the blood drained out of his head. “Is this normal?”

 

   “Yup. If you ever wondered why humans never seem to want to get out of bed, this is most of the reason.” Sam kept his arm out in case he toppled over. “Do you want to try standing, or are you going to leave it for a while?”

 

   “No,” Gabriel insisted stubbornly, scowling up at the human. He wasn’t going to lie weak and helpless on the bed with the Winchesters mocking him for any longer than he could help. “Give me a hand up.”

 

   With a little assistance, he managed to scooch over to the edge of the bed with his legs dangling over the side and caught sight of his feet. “Wow. Nice fuzzy bed socks you got me, Winchester. Are they yours?”

 

   “Shut up. Your feet were cold.”

 

   Leaning heavily on Sam, Gabriel levered himself up from the bed, tottering towards the corridor on excessively wobbly legs.

 

   He got all the way to the door before his calves locked up with cramps. He let out an involuntary whimper of pain and scrabbled at the door frame, trying to find purchase, before something grabbed him by the shoulders and propped him upright. He scowled furiously at Sam, and there was a tingling heat in his face as his stupid body rebelled and gave away his embarrassment.

 

   “I was managing!” He snapped. Sam didn’t look affronted or angry at the rude response, more mildly amused than anything really, and somehow that made it much worse.

 

   Straightening his spine he pushed Sam’s supporting arm away. He set off down the corridor, leaning on the wall, trying to scrape whatever was left of his dignity off the floor. He knew that his progress was slow, and he had to stop several times to catch his breath before he reached the kitchen, but he made it.

 

   Finally, he slumped into a chair at the kitchen table, breathing heavily. Humanity sucked.

 

   “What do you want?” Sam asked casually, opening the cupboards.

 

   “A full sized mars bar and a bottle of vodka to drown my sorrows,” Gabriel answered without missing a beat.

 

   Sam ignored him, pulling out a can of tomato soup and pouring it into a bowl. He leaned against the counter while he waited for it to heat in the microwave, and Gabriel tried not to fidget with the sensation of his stomach trying to crawl out of his throat to get at the food. Sam stopped the microwave before it could beep, pulling a spoon from the drawer and plonking it in front of Gabriel.

 

   “That might be a bit kinder on your stomach.”

 

   He was tempted to refuse on principle, but the savoury smell reached his nostrils and his mouth was suddenly full of saliva as his body physically screamed for food. As soon as the bowl was in front of him, Gabriel snatched up the spoon and tried to take a large mouthful. Sam reached to stop him just in time, but he still burnt the tip of his tongue on the steaming liquid. He yelped, dropping the spoon, hot tears of pain welling in his eyes.

 

   “Yeah, it’s hot. Wait for it to cool.”

 

   “Well I know that now, asshole!”

 

   The wait for the soup to cool enough to be edible could easily have counted as some kind of medieval torture. He blew on one spoonful, moaning inappropriately when it hit his taste buds, then moaning again because Sam started rolling his eyes. Not that he hadn’t enjoyed food before but the flavours were so _overwhelming_ as a human, so rich and complex. He ate it faster as it cooled and before he knew it he was scraping the bowl to get the last few mouthfuls.

 

   Finally he sat back, a warm, satisfied feeling in his stomach that overwhelmed the prickling pain still lingering in his burnt tongue and his previous bad mood. Humanity’s endless obsession with food was making much more sense. He was feeling drowsy again, this time not from exhaustion but a post-food haze. He watched Sam out of a corner of his eye as he pulled out a chair across from him.

 

   “So,” Gabriel said nonchalantly, “You promised me a full run down of everything that happened since I took an extended dirt nap. I still have no idea where we are by the way.”

 

   Sam obliged, and the further he got into the story the more disbelieving Gabriel became. Sam managing to get out of the cage with no soul? Leviathans? Castiel becoming God? It all sounded a little unreal. Oh yes, he remembered the Men of Letters, he should have realised that Sam was related to a bunch of crusty historians. He cracked a smile when Sam told him the stories about Charlie. Now there was someone that he could get along with.

 

   Finally Sam sat back, but Gabriel knew that the story wasn’t finished.

 

    “Hang on, you never answered my question last night, or however long ago it was I was last awake. Who brought me back? You said that you did, not directly obviously, ‘cos you’re human, but I’m guessing you know who did it, because you didn’t exactly look shocked enough for me to have spontaneously appeared on the floor. So come on. Spill.”

 

   The shifty expression was back, closely followed by the careful-don’t-let-him-see-you-panic face. Gabriel leaned forwards again so that Sam couldn’t evade his gaze.

 

   “Well…” Sam was chewing slightly on his lip, as though sorting through his answer. “You know how you keep assuming that it wasn’t actually me doing the resurrecting?”

 

   “Yeah, because you’re human,” Gabriel said slowly, trying to work out where this was going.

 

   “Yeah, about that, not so much. I did it, Gabriel. Or I suppose you could say that we did it.” Sam shifted his shoulders awkwardly, as though he was trying to readjust a weight behind them-

 

   Something clicked into place, and his thought train ground to a halt. No.

 

   No, that couldn’t be it. It was impossible. Sam was a human.

 

   Wasn’t he?

 

   Gabriel’s eyes darted to behind Sam, searching for the disturbance of great wings stirring the air. Sam was looking at him nervously, eyeing him as though he could see the tangle of emotions roaring through Gabriel’s skull like a sudden tornado, anger and fear and frustration overwhelming him.

 

   “Please tell me, Sam, that you didn’t get yourself possessed, or even worse, steal an angel’s Grace. Because if you did, I am going to have to punch you. And I won’t even care if it breaks my knuckles.” His voice was deceptively even, but apparently Sam could see straight through that because he was looking shiftier by the second. He sat back, tone defensive.

 

   “Hey, it wasn’t as if it was my idea! I’m not being possessed, you know I would never give permission to let an angel in!”

 

   Well, that was worse in a way because that meant it had to be option B. “Then whose is it? Who did you mutilate for a power grab?” He snarled. He might not be able to harm Sam any more in revenge for his siblings without Grace running through his veins, but he could damn well try.

 

   “Nobody! I couldn’t really do much about it when witches poured Grace down my throat! They literally tied me down and forced it into my chest. And it wasn’t like they cut it out of a living angel, because it’s yours!”

 

Gabriel stopped, surprised, “Mine? Wait, you actually _absorbed_ it?!”

 

   Sam was getting more agitated and exasperated, a light starting to glow from behind his irises making the threads of different colours in them swirl like shining whirlpools. The lights flickered alarmingly. Then the suggestion of enormous wings began flickering on the wall above his head, and if Gabriel had been doubting what Sam was telling him about what had resurrected him, that was long gone now.

 

   “Yeah, it was just a piece they found in this ancient oak tree, but then once it was in me it sort of called to all the other bits and sucked them all back in.”

 

   Gabriel gaped at him, anger mostly evaporating. “How are you even alive?”

 

   Sam’s mouth twitched into a grimace and his wings flicked in annoyance. “That’s what everyone keeps asking. We don’t really know, but we reckon it’s because I’m an archangel vessel or something.”

 

   “That shouldn’t be enough,” Gabriel muttered under his breath, but of course Sam now had super hearing so he nodded in agreement.

 

   “Yeah, that’s what Cas has been saying.” He was getting calmer now, tucking the angelic bits back inside, the glow in his eyes dying and the wings fading from the walls.

 

   “Why the hell would they want to create an archangel unless they wanted to be smote? Were they trying to bring me back?”

 

   Sam snorted. “No. They weren’t even trying to make an archangel, they were just trying to use my soul to convert the energy from the Grace into something they could use. Bit off a bit more than they could chew when they forced it into me. It shot straight into my chest, I’m still amazed that it didn’t give me a heart attack.”

 

   “Maybe it did then brought you back,” Gabriel muttered, “How did they get it into you? Show me where.”

 

   Sam got up and came around the table, pulling his shirt over his head, and Gabriel whistled at the filigree of silvery lines that laced across the hard planes of his chest.

 

   “Wow. That paintwork isn’t coming off. Damn, those are some nasty runes. Unfortunately, I think they knew what they were doing.”  

 

   Gabriel couldn’t stop looking Sam up and down, as though he might be able to peel back his skin and touch the Grace inside, halfway between angry and relieved. He had resigned himself that even if he was back that his Grace was gone for good. Finding out that it hadn’t been permanently obliterated should have been a good thing. But now that it was in Sam it was worse, because looking at those symbols there might be no way to get it out of him. It was so close, but still so unreachable that it might as well be on Mars. He had come to terms with the loss and here it was, taunting him! That left a sour taste on his tongue.

 

   Nevertheless, Gabriel had to admit his grudging respect for the kid. He shuddered at the thought of what it must have felt like when his soul got pried open by those sigils on his chest and then an entire ocean of Grace poured in. It was a miracle he wasn’t dead. It couldn’t be easy, becoming an archangel practically overnight, and he was surprisingly good at not burning everyone’s eyes out in a fit of temper.

 

   Gabriel could feel the cold, empty space inside himself where the Grace had been, and it ached like a bruise. The warmth from the soup was wearing off and the bunker air was chill against his face. He scowled deeply and shivered.

 

   “I thought it was gone, you know. The Grace. I thought it just got scattered too far when I died. I’d forgotten about that bit in the tree, it was such a small piece, I only did it to tie myself to earth so it would be easier to live down here long term.”

 

   Sam shrugged back into his shirt. “Yeah, I’m sorry. If I knew how to give it back to you I would.”

 

   Sam was looking guilty again, but from what Gabriel remembered of Sam’s soul, that was his natural state at least half of the time. He tried to swallow the frustrated jealousy. Sam hadn’t asked for any of this.

 

   “It’s not your fault kiddo, it wasn’t exactly up to you. Hope you got the witches though.”

 

   “Yeah, there was a lot of energy released, they sort of got fried.”

 

   Gabriel felt a twist of vindictive pleasure at the thought of the witches getting their just desserts, very similar to what he had felt as Loki. It looked as though pagan gods hadn’t cornered the market on that emotion.

 

   “So, suddenly becoming an archangel must have thrown you for a loop.”

 

   Sam looked a little surprised, as though he hadn’t expected Gabriel to ask after his mental health. “Thankfully it was a bit slower than that. It took a while for all the pieces to get together, thank God, or I think it would have killed me on the spot.”

 

   “Yeah, I’ll say it again, you should be dead.” Gabriel paused, then decided to go for the blunt approach. Better to get this over with. “What I don’t get is why you’re so keen to have me back, Sam. I mean, I tortured you, you know?” Sam shifted uncomfortably and his face twisted but his eyes stayed locked onto him. “Don’t get me wrong, I regret the way I went about it, but you were still the one that wanted to talk to me and try to bring me over to your side when Dean was still being all gung-ho with the stakes. And now you actually go to the effort to bring me back from the dead, and I know personally how much effort it takes to make a body without the powers of heaven backing you up. Why bother, Sam?”

 

   Gabriel couldn’t figure Sam out. It had always vaguely disturbed him, even back when he could literally see right through him, that Sam could always keep pulling surprises out of his sleeves. And now that he couldn’t even see his soul it was worse. What the fuck was his motive? Why on Earth would he want Gabriel back with the living? Was it for some sort of ritual? Were they going to sacrifice him?

 

   Sam snorted and leant back, looking vaguely amused. “No, no, nothing like that. I don’t know, I always felt that you and I were sort of… similar? We both ran away from our homes to escape the fighting, we both didn’t really have a place, not being one thing or the other. It was nice to have things in common with an angel who wasn’t Lucifer. So how’s being human, Gabriel?”

 

   “So you want to have a deep, heartfelt discussion about our feelings?” Gabriel quipped sarcastically. He knew deflection when he saw it.

 

   “Yes.” Sam told him bluntly.

 

   Gabriel shrugged moodily. “It’s fine, I guess.”

 

   Which was a blatant lie. It really wasn’t fine. Why couldn’t he stop _feeling_? All of his emotions were still there, rattling around his head like spare change, and there was no way to take out the trash, he couldn’t get away from it at all. The stress from earlier was still festering, making him short tempered and anxious, as though it would only take a small push to propel him over the edge again.

 

   Sam was giving him a look across the table, and of course he could see it, he could see _everything_. The hole in his chest where his Grace had been burnt cold and it made Gabriel want to snap.

 

   “What? Surprised that not everybody’s coping so well with their change in species?”

 

   Sam didn’t take the bait, didn’t reply with a sharp retort that Gabriel could turn back on him and stab him with, just sat there with a look of helpless sorrow on his face and that made it worse. The anger was turning into hot frustration,

 

   He suddenly realised that he was shivering wildly, his teeth clattering like maracas. He hadn’t realised that he had got so cold. Probably all the concrete floors. He hugged his arms, feeling a shudder run through him as all the hairs on his arms stood to attention. Sam leant forwards, his brow creased in concern, and put a hand on his shoulder. He would have shrugged it off, but he was shaking too hard.

 

   “Are you sure you’re okay?”

 

   Strangely enough, that seemed to help. The cold inside him eased slightly, and he exhaled slowly.

 

   “Yeah, I’m fine. Just cold.”

 

   Sam still looked worried, but suggested that he might want a shower to get warm.

 

   “Yeah, sounds good.”

 

   Gabriel got up from his chair and swayed again, stabilising himself with a hand on the table and waving Sam off with a growl. “I’m fine, I just need to get some momentum going.”

 

   He staggered down the hallway that led to the bedrooms. At least he hoped it did. Father, the place was a maze. Sam walked past him and glanced back to make sure he was following, so he must have been going the right way. Gabriel sent him a sarcastic thumbs up.

 

   By the time they reached the bathroom he was breathing heavily and leaned back against the sink, trying to hide the way he was gasping. Sam was standing awkwardly in the doorway, a large towel in one hand and a spare set of clothes in the other.

 

   “So, do you know what you’re doing, or…”

 

   “Pretty sure I know how to shower, samsquatch.” He said testily. He didn’t need Sam pandering to him, he could do it perfectly well himself.

 

   “Sorry. Call if you need any help.”

 

   Sam backed out of the door and closed it behind him. Gabriel snorted and pulled off the thick sweater, then the two shirts underneath, already feeling the shivers starting up again in the chill of the tiled room. The body he was in looked exactly the same as when he had last possessed it, maybe ever so slightly younger (Sam must have been impatient to get rid of him), but otherwise perfect.

 

   Apart from one thing.

 

   “Sam! Get back in here!” he hollered.

 

   Sam burst back through the door, then stopped at the sight of Gabriel standing in the room naked from the waist up, staring down at his chest. There, right over the middle of his sternum, was a large, bright red, angry-looking raised hand print.

 

   After a moment of stunned silence, Sam walked slowly forwards, holding his hand out and pressing it to the tender skin. The mark fit exactly to his long fingers. As soon as they came into contact Gabriel felt a tug deep inside his chest and warmth blossomed between his ribs. He twisted away, grimacing at the strange sensation, and Sam snatched his hand back, eyes wide.

 

   “Don’t just touch weird symbols, you moron! Father, how are you two even still alive?”

 

   “I didn’t mean to, it just sort of happened! It sort of… called to me. Sorry about the scar, it must have happened when I put your soul back in.”

 

   “Yeah, yeah. Relax, it’s fine. I just wanted to make sure that was all it was before you went slapping your massive hands all over my chest. Looks like it’s just a scar though, nothing to worry about. Not your fault if you gave me a cool tat in the process of bringing me back to life. At least you weren’t touching anywhere inappropriate,” Gabriel waggled his eyebrows and was rewarded with a bright flush spreading over Sam’s face along with a scandalised expression. “Now get out, I want a shower.”

 

   Sam startled and backed out again as fast as his outsized limbs could carry him. His bad mood lifting slightly, Gabriel chuckled as the door closed and he locked it, then stripped off the rest of his clothes and stepped into the stall. Making Sam squirm was just as entertaining as he remembered, even to the point where he lost control of his vessel’s reactions.

 

   Because Sam was an angel now. Right. And that wasn’t a scary thought at all.

 

   Gabriel frowned down at the hand-shape scar on his chest. It was probably just a manifestation of where Sam had grabbed his soul, and Sam’s new set of instincts would have him sticking his pointy nose into anything remotely angelic in origin. Some scars like this had more meaning (the one which had been on Dean for example), but they didn’t necessarily have to. He prodded gently at the raised skin, but the flash of heat didn’t happen again. He shrugged and shivered, then reached for the shower controls.

 

   He couldn’t stop the shrill shriek that erupted from his mouth as what felt like a stream of glacial meltwater poured onto him from above. Gabriel leapt backwards out of shock, his damp feet skidding out from under him, and fell onto his back on the tiles with a jarring impact, his skull colliding with the hard surface with a hollow thunk.

 

   Pain. Waves of pain.

 

   He lay there for a few seconds gasping with shock, his muscles locked up and the breath feeling as though it had been punched from his lungs. Dark spots flitted in front of his field of vision and he blinked furiously, trying to clear his sight. The ache in his muscles, which before had been at a manageable level, seemed to pound through his body, converging in the back of his head with a sickening throb.

 

   Over the adrenaline roaring in his ears he heard a loud bang as the door was not only blown off its hinges but practically obliterated into splinters as well. For half a second Sam’s hulking frame loomed in the doorway, then his face was suddenly hovering close above Gabriel’s, worried eyes looking slatey-blue as the harsh bathroom light leached the gold and green from them.

 

   “Gabriel? Gabe, are you okay? Can you hear me?”

 

   “Were you always this loud?” Gabriel groaned.

 

   Sam’s eyes crinkled in relief. “Well, I’m glad you’re still with us. It would have been such a waste if I went to all that trouble and then you only lasted for a few days. Do you mind if I try…” Sam reached out a hesitant hand towards his head injury.

 

   “Go ahead. Just try not to fry my brain. That would be a waste of time and resources too.”

 

   Sam gave a nervous laugh, then cupped a large palm around the back of his head. Gabriel inhaled sharply as he felt the burning press of Grace, so familiar, so foreign.

 

   “Gently,” he muttered roughly, “Stop trying to force it, Sam, it knows what it’s doing.”

 

   “But if I don’t push it doesn’t do anything,” Sam said, voice strained, “Then if I push there’s too much and I can’t stop.”

 

   “Stop trying to control it, it’s a part of you. You have to start seeing it as another limb. Just will it to do what you want.”

 

   Sam bit the inside of his lip and his forehead wrinkled, eyes darting behind his eyelids, and Gabriel felt a warm swell of Grace flow into him and then back out, taking the pain with it. He sighed in blessed relief. Sam let out a shaky breath and opened his eyes, still glowing slightly.

 

   “Better?”

 

   Gabriel felt gingerly around the back of his head, and although his fingers came back tipped with red there was no injury.

 

   “Yeah, I think you got it. Not bad for a first time healing, kiddo.”

 

   Sam got up and pulled Gabriel up with him, which was just as well as his legs were still a little wobbly, from lingering exhaustion and weakness as well as the adrenaline.

 

   “You destroyed the door.” A slightly hysterical snicker bubbled out of him

 

   “Yeah, I know. I’m trying to break the habit.”

 

   It occurred to him then that he was still completely naked and he felt a flush of embarrassment. How strange. Nudity had never bothered him as an angel, but now he wanted to cringe away and cover up. The same was apparently true in reverse with Sam, who didn’t look the least bit bothered by Gabriel’s lack of clothes.

 

   “Actually, I’ve done healing a few times now. If you can count resurrecting you and myself as healing.”

 

   “Wait, you _died_? _Again_?”

 

   Sam nodded but grinned, gently nudging him towards the shower.

 

   “What can I say? It’s a talent. I’ll tell you later, now go or you’ll never get clean.”

 

   “Oh Sammy, are you inviting me into the shower?” Gabriel cackled at Sam’s most unamused face. “You could never wash all the filth out of me, Winchester!” Gabriel sent Sam his most over-the-top wink and eyebrow waggle combination, and Sam’s eyes rolled so hard that he was surprised they didn’t get stuck in his skull, but there was a grin hidden somewhere in Sam’s expression.

 

   “I’m ignoring you, I hope you know that. And since you clearly _don’t_ know how to operate a shower…” He reached for the shower controls and, through what was no doubt some sort of witchcraft, managed to cajole the water to a decent temperature and pressure. Gabriel darted under the downpour and groaned in relief as it hit the tense muscles of his back. Was it his imagination or did Sam’s ears flush a little red as he turned away? Gabriel grinned, sensing weakness.

 

   “Admit it, Sam! This was all an excuse to ogle my naked ass!”

 

   “I made your naked ass, Gabriel! I know more about it than I ever wanted to!” Sam called back as he walked through the doorway over the remains of the door. Gabriel was still chuckling as he discovered the wonders of herbal essences. Maybe Sam _was_ still affected by nudity after all.

 

.o0o.

 

   It had been three quarters of an hour since Gabriel had entered the shower, and Sam would have been getting anxious if he hadn’t been able to feel the steady stream of internal monologue emanating from the cubicle, most of it praising the beauty of indoor plumbing and the magnificence of the water pressure. Sam spent most of that time clearing up the mess of splinters on the floor after deciding that he didn’t have quite enough faith in his ability to reform the door without setting off more explosions or boiling Gabriel in the shower water, so Dean was just going to have to deal for a few days without a door. Gabriel finally emerged in a cloud of strawberry scented steam and with an enormous tired grin plastered across his face, his hair sticking up in all directions, darkened by the water.

 

   “I hope that was your shampoo I used up and not Dean’s, otherwise I am so screwed. It’s not like you’ll be using it now anyway, since you’re all powered up. But I get why humans have an obsession with hot running water now. By the way, are these your clothes that I’m using as pyjamas? Because frankly, they’re huge.”

 

   Sure enough, the soft sweats were rolled up five times at the bottom and the shirt he was wearing could have passed as a short dress.

 

   “Have you considered the possibility that you’re just small?”

 

   Gabriel’s eyes narrowed. “Oh really? Short jokes now? Well, have you ever considered that you’re unreasonably enormous? My vess- my body is a perfectly acceptable height. Completely average. It’s hanging out with other hulking monsters like yourself all the time that’s given you that impression. You’re lucky I’m tired, Winchester, or I’d challenge you to trial by combat.”

 

   Sam snorted, unimpressed. “Yeah, whatever. Go back to bed, Gabriel, before you fall down.” He could feel the exhaustion rolling off him like a fog, and Castiel had told him that it would probably be some time before Gabriel wore in the body enough that the muscles stopped aching every time he moved. Sam wasn’t falling for the façade of being ‘perfectly fine’ that he was wearing. It reminded him an awful lot of Dean.

 

   Gabriel must have had a better sense of self-preservation than Dean, though, because he tottered back towards his room with minimal grumbling, yelling a “Night, Samsquatch!” over his shoulder. Within a few minutes Sam felt the whir of Gabriel’s thoughts die down in sleep.

 

   Sam sighed and let his grip on his vessel relax slightly, glad that he didn’t have to concentrate on making his reactions look more human for the whole day. He knew that the stillness looked unnatural, had felt Dean’s unease whenever he didn’t remember to breathe, but keeping a constant vice-like hold on his Grace was more wearing than he had been anticipating. He remembered how human Gabriel had seemed back when they had first met them, and now fully appreciated the effort he had taken to keep his movements so natural.

 

   He knew that Gabriel would try to run as soon as he was given a chance. He could see it in his thoughts, the itch to be moving, and it was a familiar ache. Sam didn’t think being human had much to do with that either; running away was Gabriel’s MO, an ingrained response by this point, but Sam thought that he might be sad to see him go. He was a bright and lively person when he wasn’t trying to kill Dean, or caught desperate and angry in a ring of holy fire.

  

   In a couple of hours everyone would wake up and he would have some company. Dean was fast asleep for once, and Charlie’s brilliant fiery scarlet soul had died down to a muted embers in the early hours. He still hadn’t figured out exactly what Cas did at night. If he hadn’t been able to feel otherwise, he would have assumed that he was in Dean’s room, but it seemed that they weren’t quite there yet. Given the way that he had seen them looking at each other over dinner, it was only a matter of time.

 

   Sam’s sharp ears picked up a whisper of sound and he turned towards it. Frowning, he followed it down the corridors until he came to the den, where the TV was flickering quietly. Sam rounded the sofa and watched Cas’ unblinking silhouette.

 

   Without looking up, Cas addressed him quietly. “Sam, you are more than welcome to join me, although I believe you have already watched the third season.”

 

Apparently, Netflix was what Cas did at night, if the current Game of Thrones marathon was anything to go by. Maybe not needing sleep was an advantage with decades of cultural references to catch up on.

 

   Cas turned to Sam and offered a small smile, eyes reflecting the light of the screen. “You are doing well with Gabriel, he is adjusting better than I expected. I believe you are a good influence on my brother.”

 

   Sam dropped onto the sofa next to him with a sigh, but his Grace warmed in his chest and he shuffled his wings until they were more comfortably arranged. “Not sure about that, but thanks, Cas.”

 

   Sam switched off and let himself drift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, at this point I have run out of pre-polished chapters. Just letting you know that the next one may take a little longer than usual, because it needs some serious work.  
> Let me know if you catch any errors I might have missed!


	6. Shouldn't it be Deestiel?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, guys! Long time no posting, partially because I just started my piece for the GBB and got carried away, and partially because I am terrible at writing smut and it is refusing to cooperate. I will beat it into shape. Eventually.

   The next few days progressed slowly for Gabriel. At first, it seemed as though he was on the mend. His dexterity was improving rapidly (“Did you even make nerves between by fingers and my brain, Sam? Because it sure doesn’t feel like it!”), and he could walk around without tripping over his own feet or needing to lie down afterwards. Not bad for a species which usually took over a year to learn to walk.

 

   He was surprised by how much he was welcomed into their lives. He had expected the other shoe to drop and for them to chuck him out on his own for the first few days, but no. They must have been really desperate for companionship if they were letting him in.

 

   Sam was the one who spent the most time with him, always seeming to be hovering somewhere close by, which was handy sometimes when he needed things off tall shelves, but annoying at others. No matter how often he got snapped at though he never retaliated. Gabriel supposed that living with Dean in close quarters for your entire life would train you to put up with an awful lot of bullshit.

 

   Charlie still had the naïve wonder of someone who hadn’t been aware of the first apocalypse, and whenever they were together at mealtimes she would pepper him with questions about life as an angel. He put up with it. He liked her, and it was nice to talk to someone who didn’t expect any more from you than good conversation. She even said some interesting things about the Winchester Gospels which he would have to check out later.

 

   Castiel was friendly, so the years must have mellowed his brother’s opinions of him for some reason, but not much had changed in his conversation skills. Even Dean was grudgingly accepting of his presence, his stony silences slowly giving way to teasing and good natured (mostly) bickering.

 

   So Gabriel was determined to soak up the relatively good life while it lasted. But after a few days, instead of improving, the chills seemed to be getting worse. Every day Gabriel woke up a little colder, and no amount of blankets, soup and hot water bottles could make a difference. He had a feeling that it had less to do with his body and more to do with the cold, aching hole inside him where Lucifer had stuck in his sword and ripped out his Grace. He was also praying to dad that his theory was wrong, because if he was right then there was nothing that they would be able to do about it anyway.

 

   The others were worried to varying degrees as he started to get worse, and no one more than Sam. Gabriel had thought that Dean was the one predisposed to mother-henning, but apparently it was hereditary, and Sam spent most of his days fussing after him with hot drinks and sweaters while he got increasingly more irritable. He caught Sam muttering quietly to Castiel about his symptoms, and when he got up in the morning he found him surrounded by books on supernatural illnesses on the library table, proclaiming how much easier it was to pull all-nighters when you didn’t need to sleep.

 

   It was getting harder and harder to get out of bed in the morning. The small progress he had made with getting stronger seemed to be going backwards, and he had to force himself to eat. The lethargy dragged him down. Finally, on the seventh day, he refused to get out from under the covers and lay there, grumpy and weak and wracked with shivers.

 

   Sam came and sat on the edge of his bed with a sigh, and Gabriel opened one miserable eyelid when he felt the mattress dip.

 

   “How are you doing?”

 

   “Fucking fantastic. Don’t ask stupid questions.” Gabriel grunted sourly into the pillow. Sam deserved his sarcasm.

 

   After a moment’s hesitation, Sam started speaking again, his voice carefully measured.

 

   “You know, we’ve been researching what might be wrong with you. There’s a whole lot of nothing in the lore, not that we expected there to be anything, and Cas hasn’t got a clue. I’ve been thinking-”

 

   “Did it hurt?”

 

   “Hilarious, Gabriel.” Sam turned to look him in the eye. “Is it because of Lucifer and the loss of your Grace?”

 

   “Ten points to the moose man.” Gabriel mumbled. He wasn’t surprised Sam had figured it out, he had never been able to fool him for long.

 

   He was surprised when a large hand closed over his shoulder and rolled him over. With those multifaceted eyes staring down at him with new angelic intensity he felt exposed as a turtle on its back.

 

   “Tell me how to help you, Gabriel.”

 

   He thought about it for a minute, longing to tell Sam to piss off and leave him to die, but he was so cold now that his toes were painful.

 

   “The current theory is that my soul is probably reacting to the lack of Grace,” Gabriel explained slowly through his chattering teeth. “It was swimming in it for millennia and now it’s exposed, and there’s nothing you can really do about it short of stripping the Grace out of you and stuffing it back in me, and I’m guessing that at the moment it’s so deep in you that there’s no way it’s coming out without ripping your soul into bite sized chunks.”

 

   The look on Sam’s face gave him all the answer he needed to that.

 

   “Yeah, I thought so. There’s really not a lot you can do, kiddo. Nice try, though.”

 

   Sam exhaled through his nose, looking frustrated. “So it’s like Grace withdrawal? I know how dangerous stuff like that can be, Gabriel, I did it with demon blood and that shit can kill you.” Bless him, he actually looked concerned. “Yes, I am concerned, and I want to help.”

 

   “Stay out of my head or I’ll start thinking dirty thoughts again.” Gabriel tried to smirk at Sam, but the expression slid off his face as his jaw began quivering again. Grace withdrawal was no joke, he remembered Remial wasting away into nothing after that freak run-in with a demon. They hadn’t been able to save him by the time they realised what was wrong with him.

 

   And now Sam was looking at him all worried and panicky. Perfect.

 

   But instead of freaking out Sam was biting his lip, looking thoughtful, then slightly nervous. Then he leant down and draped his body over Gabriel, the blankets still between them. Gabriel blinked back at him, not quite sure what to do with the heavy weight on his chest. It was kind of uncomfortable, actually.

 

   “Um… what are you doing?”

 

   Then he felt it, the flush of warmth creeping through the blankets as the Grace reached out of Sam’s vessel to press against his soul. Gabriel actually gasped and then he was moving, pushing Sam off him. For half a second Sam looked slightly hurt before he realised that Gabriel was just trying to remove the blankets from between them.

 

   “Sorry, I can’t get the Grace any further out without my soul leaving my vessel.”

 

   “Shut up! Stop apologising and get down here!”

 

   Sam lay down again obediently and Gabriel desperately attached himself to Sam’s torso like a bur, wrapping his legs around Sam’s to keep him there. He groaned in relief as the shivering stopped completely for the first time in three days, his aching muscles finally relaxing as he plastered himself to the warmth.

 

   He was peripherally aware that Dean and Charlie would probably come in at some point, but he was too busy melting into a puddle to care. Embarrassment would have to wait.

 

   He felt himself passing out, days of poor sleep catching up with him, and before he knew what was happening, he was drifting off the edge into a deep rest.

 

 

 

   He came to again what felt like a great deal of time later. For several blissful minutes he floated in a soft, warm haze, reluctant to move. It was so different to the way he had woken before, cold and shivering, and he burrowed into the warmth, rubbing his face against it.

 

   “Dude, are you wiping your nose on me?”

 

   With an abrupt jolt Gabriel was dumped back into reality and the realisation that he had not in fact been nuzzling the pillow, but rather the chest of an amused Sam. His body betrayed his embarrassment by flushing his cheeks with red.

 

   “No! Shut up. Did you seriously lie there all day and night?”

 

   Sam just chuckled and sat up, unaffected by hours spent in the same position.

 

   “You wouldn’t let go and you needed the rest. Come on, let’s go get some breakfast.”

 

   Gabriel swung out of bed, properly hungry for the first time in days, and barely even felt the vertigo. He sauntered into the kitchen, where Dean was chatting to Cas and Charlie while wearing the ugliest grey robe he had ever seen in his long life and clutching a mug of coffee like it was a lifeline in a raging storm.

 

   As soon as Dean caught sight of him, his face lit with an evil grin like Christmas had come early just for him.

 

   “So,” He said in a mock nonchalant voice, “Did you two get a little… cosy last night? Were there not enough blankets or something?”

 

   Gabriel strolled over and put in a piece of toast, Dean’s comments not denting his high spirits at all. “Nah, Sam wanted sex. And by the way, he does cry. But he makes up for it with this thing he does with his tongue-”

 

   Dean cut him off with a truly horrified noise and Charlie laughed at him in surprise, as though she hadn’t expected archangels to deal in filthy innuendos. Gabriel winked at her and tuned out Dean’s outraged speech about ‘things he never needed to know’.

 

   Sam just pulled a face and rolled his eyes, but Gabriel could see the smirk hiding in the corner of his mouth. Gabriel grinned as he helped himself to fluffy, buttery scrambled eggs from the pan on the stove and sat down with them at the table. It wasn’t pancakes drenched in syrup, but damn, Dean could make up for his personality flaws with cooking.

 

   Halfway through his breakfast he looked up with a startle when Charlie plonked a steaming mug of the darkest coffee that he had ever seen in front of him with a slightly evil grin and asked him, “You’ve never had coffee before, have you?”

 

   Gabriel smirked across at her. “Challenge accepted.”

 

   Twenty minutes and a cup and a half later Gabriel was practically vibrating. He felt even more energised but somehow it wasn’t a pleasant feeling, his heart beating staccato against his ribs. But the taste was so intense, dark and bitter and smooth against his tongue, that it made it difficult to stop drinking the stuff.

 

   “Yeah, no more coffee for you.” Sam said, easing the mug out of his grip. Gabriel would have put up more of a fight, except his knee wouldn’t stop bouncing and his eyes wouldn’t focus on Charlie and Dean grinning at him from across the table. Yeah, maybe he should take it easy with the caffeine.

 

   “I can’t wait to get him drunk,” Dean commented with a sip of his own mug.

 

.o0o.

 

   Life continued on like that for several weeks after the change in ‘sleeping arrangement’, as Gabriel liked to call it whenever Dean was near, accompanied by inappropriate gestures and leering. Sam could easily tell that it was a front designed with the express purpose of pissing Dean off. They discovered after a little trial and error that Gabriel would be alright for the day as long as he spent the night plastered up against Sam. Sam could tell that he was disgruntled by this reliance on having him there constantly, but after the first few nights the awkwardness on his part and the surliness on Gabriel’s began to wear off. He got used to lying in bed with a book in hand and Gabriel curled into his side in a line of warmth, snoring quietly. It was kind of comforting.

 

   Charlie had agreed to stay on and help with a project that Sam had always wanted to do, making a database for the Men of Letters library, and during the day they finally began to sort through the boxes of random cursed objects stacked in the back rooms.

 

   Gabriel was slowly improving again, and as he got fitter he got more and more cooped up and jumpy. After two days of being snarled at, Sam cornered him and forced the reason out of him.

 

   “I just feel useless, okay? You try going from being able to obliterate the planet to not being able to kill a werewolf on your own.” Gabriel admitted. His words were angry, but Sam could see the dark, swirling grey of sadness in his thoughts and didn’t take it personally.

 

   “Okay, well, we can do something about that,” he reasoned.

 

   And that was how Sam found himself spending several hours every afternoon sparring with Gabriel in the range. They found him a long, slim knife to fight with (Gabriel wouldn’t touch another angel’s blade) and he was good enough within a few sessions that he could hold his own with Dean. It helped that his technical proficiency with the blade was near perfect, honed by millennia as one of heaven’s best warriors, and it was obvious that it was only the unfamiliar body holding him back. He was slowly building muscle, and despite his moaning about his aching afterwards, the dark cloud of depression around him was lightened a little. Sam suspected that the training reminded him of heaven and his brothers, but he didn’t pry. At least he was helping.

 

.o0o.

 

   This was it. Dean was going to tell him.

 

   Dean took a deep, calming breath and walked into the library, aiming for casual. Sam didn’t look up from where he was entering the data for an ancient book which looked like it might be bound in human skin (ew, gross) into the database until Dean was a few feet from him.

 

   Be cool, Dean. Be cool.

 

   “I… Um, so…”

 

   Sam grinned at him and waited for him to go on.

 

   “Well… Cas and I are kind of together,” he said in a rush, pushing the words out past his lips before he could swallow them again.

 

   “Yeah, Dean, I know.” Sam went back to his database like it was no big deal.

 

   Dean gaped at him. “Wait- you know? How?” he demanded, agitated.

 

   Sam put in another entry. “Well, you two aren’t exactly subtle. And if you weren’t giving away enough clues, do you really think that I wouldn’t notice you and Cas kissing every time you meet in the corridor, for two weeks, now that I can literally see through concrete?” Sam grinned.

 

   Dean opened and closed his mouth a few times. “And… you’re not…mad?”

 

   Sam snorted and smiled up at him. “Jesus Dean, why would I be mad? I’m happy for you guys. A little annoyed you hadn’t told me yet, yeah, but I figured that was just you being a stubborn ass. You might want to reign in the dirty thoughts though, and please wait until I’m out before you-”

 

   Dean jumped forwards and grabbed him in a headlock, scrubbing the top of his head and messing up his freaky, girly hair before Sam could jerk away with a scowl.

 

   “What the hell was that for?”

 

   “For letting me stew over telling you when you knew already!”

 

   Sam grinned evilly at him. “You should have seen your face!”

 

   “You have been spending too much time around Gabriel,” Dean grumbled as he stalked towards the kitchen. Maybe he could call Cas and see if he could spend some time, find a way to use all the leftover adrenaline-

 

   “Keep it family friendly in there! If you see Charlie, tell her she owes me ten dollars!” Sam hollered after him. Dean scowled and swore at him through the concrete, and Sam laughed.

 

.o0o.

  

   Recently, Dean found himself with a lot more down time than he was used to having. Boredom had never been a problem in the past, what with never catching a break when it came to horrifying world-ending events. But things seemed to be quite settled at the moment, more quiet than they’d been for a decade now he thought about it, and all of that time to himself was actually becoming a real issue.

 

   What it resulted in was Dean spending a lot more time online when he wasn’t with Cas or watching Sam and Gabriel argue over early Latin grammar. And spending more time online, he inevitably ended up back on… certain websites.

 

   This time, he made sure that Sam was well out of the way before he started, all the way down in the armory and distracted by bickering with Gabriel. Cas was out for the day, probably liaising with Hannah about Important Angel Business. He was good to go.

 

   He pulled up his favourite new source of porn. At least this site never gave you pop up ads or viruses, so Sam really should be grateful that he had switched his source. And fanfiction was, like, Fairtrade. No actual people were exploited to produce this porn and all that. So that meant he had the moral high ground over Busty Asian Beauties, although that was a pretty low bar. 

 

   He flicked down the list and sighed. No new good stuff for today on the Doctor Sexy tag, it looked like. Maybe it was time to branch out. He was willing to bet that there was probably a load of really kinky shit from the Game of Thrones fandom…

 

   He scrolled down the list of shows, looking for the tag. Huh, there were only a few there, that was odd. Then he remembered from watching Sam with a massive tome clutched in his hands that the book series was actually called a Song of Ice and Fire. Maybe it was under S…

 

   He scrolled down and punched his fist into the air on seeing the decent fic total under that tag. Then his eyes drifted down.

 

   Just a few entries under what he had come here to look at, there was another entry. With a sinking feeling, he saw an intimidating number of fics under the tag _Supernatural._

   He tried to drag his eyes back up, but they kept getting sucked back down. Why were there so damn many of them? Chuck’s books hadn’t been _that_ popular! No way was he clicking that link.

 

   He hesitated. Why were so many people interested? Sam’s voice echoed in his mind, _shouldn’t it be deestiel? Casdean?_ He shook it off. That way lead down the path of madness, he knew that.

 

   But he was just too curious, okay?

 

   _I am going to regret this so much,_ he thought to himself as he clicked the link.

 

.o0o.

 

   Charlie wandered into the library, she could swear she had seen that book on angelic behaviour around here somewhere. She caught sight of Dean sitting at the table, then saw the bright flush on his face and the way his mouth was hanging open. He obviously hadn’t seen her yet, and he didn’t even react as she started walking up towards him.

 

   “Hey, Dean, you and the laptop should get a room.”

 

   He whipped around. She hadn’t thought it would be possible for his face to get any more red, but to her amusement she had been wrong. Just before he slammed the laptop shut she caught sight of what was on the screen, and no, it couldn’t be…

 

   “Dean, are you looking up fanfiction?”

 

   He let out a strange high pitched spluttering sound, like a kettle coming to a boil, and she laughed.

 

   “Oh don’t worry, I won’t tell Gabe, your secret is safe with me. So, wotcha looking up?” she plopped into the seat next to him, grinning. This was going to be so good.

 

   When he just opened and closed his mouth like an embarrassed guppy, she thought that she might know what the problem was.

 

   “Wait. Don’t tell me you just found all the Supernatural fanfiction?”

 

   Dean nodded reluctantly, mortified, and she had to work hard on not exploding with laughter. Oh, this was priceless. She wished she had her phone out so that she could take a picture of his face and frame it in her bedroom.

 

   “Well, you do have some very… enthusiastic fans.”

 

   “It’s fucking creepy, that’s what it is!” Dean exploded suddenly. “Why are these people so obsessed with other people’s fictional sex lives?” He looked genuinely distraught at the thought of all the people who had imagined him in compromising positions.

 

   “Oh come on, it’s not all smut! There’s fluff too, or gen if that’s your thing. You should probably be glad that a lot of the fans have jumped ship to destiel now, at least that isn’t incest.”

 

   Dean stopped and looked at her, eyes narrowing. “You seem to know an awful lot about this, Charlie.”

 

   She shrugged, unrepentant. “Yeah, well, there was a severe lack of lady on lady action in there. What was I supposed to do? It was my duty. I’m presuming you found the destiel. Did you enjoy reading it? Because that’s what counts.”

 

   Dean’s face turned fuschia and he groaned as he dropped his head into his hands. But he wasn’t denying it, she noticed.

 

   “I’m amazed that fictional us get any hunting done at all with all the sex we’re supposed to be having.”

 

   “Well, yeah, it is a little unrealistic. I did try not to read too many about you guys, by the way. But you’ve gotta admire the enthusiasm! I mean some of them are basically online novels, you know? Oh, I have _got_ to give you some fic recs. Some of the people out there are literary genii.”

 

   “No! Stop right there!” Dean cut her off as she reached for her phone. “There is no way that I’m being sucked into all this… this pit of insanity!”

 

   He jumped up and headed for the kitchen, not even bothering to pick up his laptop as Charlie rolled around in her seat with laughter. Oh boy, this was going to be so good. She hoped that he had at least managed to find the wing kink.


	7. Wingin' It

  

   Most of the time, Gabriel sort of forgot that Sam was an angel now.

 

   After all, he was used to thinking of him as a human. Everything that he had been destined for had kind of hinged on that fact more or less (if you didn’t count Azaezl’s meddling), and he was used to being able to see if there was anything supernatural in a meatsuit.

 

   So it took him longer than it probably should have to realize that while Sam might look like he was dealing fine with the species change on the surface, he wasn’t exactly an expert on being part of the God Squad.

 

   Sam was trying to teach him how to improve his aim when he started to notice it. Having been one of the fiercest angelic warriors for several billion years, it was rather a nasty shock when he realised that being human meant he had new limitations to work around. Limitations like finger cramps and the recoil on every primitive peashooter he tried to use throwing off his aim.

 

   They had been working at it for about half an hour when Sam began rolling his shoulders. He had been unusually tense and terse all morning, and at first Gabriel assumed that he was just getting impatient with him (he himself had been getting frustrated since the first five minutes), but soon the shifting was happening every minute, then every ten seconds. Gabriel lowered the pistol and turned to face Sam properly (clicking on the safety this time after the panic he had caused at the start. It turns out humans shouldn’t wave around loaded pistols).

 

   “What’s the issue, Winchester? You look like Deano dropped a load of itching powder in your underwear.”

 

   Sam’s face turned slightly pissy. “Don’t know what you’re talking about. Focus on the targets.”

 

   Gabriel ignored him and kept his back to the perforated torsos at the other end of the range. He squinted at Sam, the harsh light throwing sharp shadows across his face. He thought he knew what the problem might be, even if he couldn’t see it for himself.

 

   “You know, you might as well ask. I know you don’t want to ask Cassie, but I used to be an archangel.”

 

   Sam’s pinched expression turned slightly guilty.

 

   “Yeah, well, I didn’t want to, you know, rub it in…”

 

   Gabriel waved him off irritably. “Look, I don’t care. You have my grace, yada yada. The shock’s worn off. If you’re having issues with it, I’m probably the person to come to, capiche?” Sam nodded. “Good. So, what’s up?”

 

   “I’m not sure. I think it’s my wings. My whole back itches like hell.”

 

   Gabriel nodded, thinking. “Right. So, since you got them, how often have you been preening them?”

 

   Sam looked at him blankly. “Preening them?”

 

   Gabriel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Man, this was going to take some explaining.

 

   “Okay, so I’m guessing that’s a no. Come on, if I have to explain all of this then I want to sit down and you’re going to need somewhere to spread out. Let’s get out of this concrete tomb.”

 

   Sam nodded and they walked back into the main living areas, the temperature increasing as they ascended. Gabriel stopped in the war room, looking around and then glancing at Sam, assessing.

 

   “Can you stretch your wings out in here?”

 

   He watched as Sam tilted his head, eyes focused on things on either side of him, then nodded.

 

   “Good. Because you can do it when your wings are going through things, but take it from me you don’t want to.”

 

   Sam interrupted, “Wait, what are you talking about? What are we doing?”

 

   “You know how birds preen their feathers?” Sam nodded. “Well angels do as well. Obviously not on this plane and you won’t be able to do it with human hands, ‘cos they’re not corporeal, but I can probably teach you how to do it. I’m actually surprised that you haven’t done it instinctively.”

 

   Sam fidgeted again and Gabriel could almost see the wings shaking themselves out behind him. He pushed back the ache inside where his Grace used to be and forged ahead.

 

   “Right, you’re going to need to use your hands to do this, kiddo. No not those ones, your other ones…”

 

   Gabriel coached Sam through figuring out how to actually work the limbs on his true form rather than just letting them do their own thing, but given that to touch them Sam needed to ascend to a plane that Gabriel couldn’t even access any more it was a little difficult. Every time Sam dissociated a little with his vessel to work his true form he seemed to panic and slam his Grace fully back into his body as far as Gabriel could judge by the flickering shadows being occasionally thrown across the walls.

 

   “For fuck’s sake,” Gabriel snapped several minutes later, “This isn’t working.”

 

   “We could get Cas to come and help me…” Sam sounded uncertain, and Gabriel understood why. Letting another angel touch any part of his true form would have gone against every angelic instinct.

 

   “No, don’t worry kiddo, we’ll sort something out. Hey, do you think you could let me see them at least? I won’t be able to touch then, but that way I can tell what you’re doing wrong.”

 

    Sam looked at him doubtfully. “You’re human, remember? Won’t seeing my true form burn your eyes out?”

 

    Gabriel gave him an unimpressed look and pointed to himself, circling his own face sarcastically with a finger. “Ex archangel, remember? Pretty sure I’ll be fine. If anybody’s going to be able to look at angels, it’s going to be me. Even some regular humans can look at angels without their brains getting barbequed. I’ll cope.”

 

   Sam still looked dubious and Gabriel felt the sudden urge to smite something. Human irritation was unexpectedly powerful.

 

   “Look, I’m really not sure-”

 

   “Just do it!”

 

   “Okay, okay, sheesh…”

 

   Sam looked down for a moment, eyes going unfocused, then he looked up again with a nod, irises shot through with starlight. Gabriel leaned forwards and Sam reached up, pressing his fingertips to Gabriel’s forehead. He felt the rush of heat through his veins, burning behind his eyes and back into his brain, and inhaled a quick, messy gasp.

 

   Almost immediately his eyes began to water and he had to scrunch them shut against the glare. Soon though they adjusted, and Gabriel could make out Sam’s worried expression, both on his vessel and on the heads peering down at him. He waved him off.

 

   “See? Absolutely fine.”

 

   The first thing that became immediately obvious was that Sam might not be the rightful owner of the Grace inside him, but his true form was definitely his own. Sam was an angel in his own right. Because Gabriel knew what he had looked like without a vessel back before he had gone human side, and it had been nothing like that.

 

   Damn, Sam was big in true form. Not as big as he had been, of course, not even close, but for a human-turned-archangel squashed into compact form in a vessel? Pretty impressive. He ran his eyes over the long limbs, the sleek sheen of his feathers. If he craned back his neck, he could look up into the multiple sets of glowing hazel eyes looming over him, the shifting features of his four faces shown into sharp relief by the thin circlet of light hovering over him. He snorted with laughter when he noticed that one of the stable features on the central head was an elegant pair of antlers.

 

   Sam shifted, and the movement was awkward and stilted, like he wasn’t entirely sure where all of his limbs were. Poor kid probably didn’t. For the first time Gabriel considered how strange it must be to gain a more complex body. Downsizing to a human vessel? Not a problem for an angel, so long as you could put up with the annoying lack of tails and find yourself a vessel that was the right shape for your energy signature so that it wouldn’t explode the first time your Grace touched it. Turning into an angel, though? Whole different ball game. For starters, there were the different senses. Then there were the wings, and the extra eyes and heads, and the tails (which Sam didn’t even seem to be aware that he had). Most of Sam’s true form trailed limply after his vessel, running on autopilot.

 

   Sam must have sensed his observations because his body feathers fluffed, making the bronzed metallic sheen on them glimmer, and he shook out his wings from behind his shoulders with a shrug. Strong, broad expanses of feathers filled the room, twitching uncomfortably under Gabriel’s gaze. The plumage registered as a rich chestnut brown to his inferior vision, gleaming slightly under the light of his halo, with a subtle black barring on the primaries. The undersides were paler, lightening to a creamy tan in the down closest to his body. Gabriel swallowed, trying to push down his envy and focus on the issue at hand.

 

   Archangels had more than one pair of wings. Of course they did. Or rather, they had wings on more than one plain of existence. However, that meant that whenever they were observed they only appeared as one pair, transposed directly on top of one another. That didn’t mean that they couldn’t get messed up individually, though. Convenient for drawing, yes. Good news for preening, no.

 

   It turned out that Sam must have been hiding a bigger problem than he had been letting on (surprise surprise) because what should have been a smooth aerodynamic surface was rucked and the feathers had frayed on the ends. Gabriel whistled.

 

    “Woo, no wonder you’ve been uncomfortable, sasquatch. I didn’t know it was physically possible to get that many feathers out of place.”

 

   Sam shifted irritably, and his body feathers ruffled. “Are you going to help me fix it or what?”

 

   It took fifteen minutes to get Sam to be able to work his own limbs so that he could actually touch his own feathers, and an hour and a half just to get all of the feathers pointing in the right directions. After that, despite Sam saying that they felt much better now, Gabriel had him run his long fingers through all the major flight feathers, smoothing them into a single surface again.

 

   By the time that was done, Gabriel’s eyes were red and sore and there was an ominous prickling behind them.

 

   “Okay, think that’s enough for today, now cut the light show before I spontaneously combust.” The world dropped back into its normal colours and Gabriel sighed in relief. “I am actually surprised that you managed to sit still for so long with them like that. Flying will probably be a lot easier now.”

 

   “Yeah, well, thanks for showing me how to sort it out.”

 

   Gabriel felt sort of guilty, actually. Sam had been working his ass off to help him, even _resurrecting_ him for dad’s sake, teaching him how to tie his laces and be a real boy, and it had taken him over a week to even notice that Sam was struggling.

 

   Sam looked up at him and frowned. “Hey, not your fault, okay? You had more than enough of your own shit to deal with.”

 

   “Yeah, well you’re stuck on me like a bur half the time so it was pretty blind of me not to notice, really.”

 

   Sam grinned. “I’ll have you know that it’s you who sticks like a bur to me. And you drool.”

 

   “It doesn’t count if I’m unconscious!”

 

.o0o.

 

   Ever since he had found out that Sam was having problems with his wings, Gabriel had been much more observant when it came to his new abilities. He noticed now when the glasses on the table began to vibrate subtly whenever Sam got frustrated looking through the lore on shtigas for a hunter working the Mexican border, saw his face go a little blank on the rare occasion he had to focus on his other form.

 

   Now, he bugged Sam about his wings now to the stage of being annoying, and it didn’t help that they had at least eight hours of compulsory contact every day. It did feel to some extent like Gabriel was getting back at him for all the fussing he had done for the first few days that he had been human. Despite that, Sam couldn’t help feeling slightly less annoyed and enjoying the attention more then he would have if it was Dean. It was refreshing to know that Gabriel might actually care about them. And it did provide an opportunity to ask all the questions that inevitably came up.

 

   “Hey Gabriel, why can’t I hear angel radio?” he asked one evening after Gabriel had dragged him reluctantly into bed.

 

   Gabriel didn’t move, but Sam felt his brow furrow where he was leaning against his shoulder, his mind ticking through ideas.

 

   “Let me guess, Deano made that name up?” Sam grinned and let Gabriel continue. “Dunno. You probably can. If you can hear thoughts, it’s just another wavelength of that. You’re probably not tuned right. Same with the prayers.”

 

   “You make me sound like an old radio.”

 

   “It might also be because you’re not looking for it. You have to sort of reach out to find it, you have to be paying attention to your true form, to being an angel. And you’re focusing all your energies trying to be human again. You’re stuck so deep in that vessel we would need a deep sea submarine to find you. Stuffing your Grace down deeper than even I did when I was pretending to be a pagan.” Gabriel’s voice had taken on an unnervingly serious tone. “You’re not human anymore, Sam. Sometime you’re going to have to accept that, you know.”

 

   Sam knew that his body was tense and rigidly angel, and he wanted to deny it, but he was trying to control himself enough to avoid blowing out the bulb of the bedside light. “So what are you getting at?”

 

   “I’m telling you to loosen up, Samsquatch.” He said, as though he wasn’t at all concerned by making the possibly out of control angel angry. Gabriel’s tone should have been goading, but it wasn’t. Suddenly, Sam recognised the tone, the exact same as he had heard at the end of those terrible six months after mystery spot. Like Gabriel waned to plead but couldn’t. He snorted.

 

   “You’re trying to teach me another lesson, aren’t you? Still playing Loki. You should have probably realised after mystery spot that it doesn’t tend to work. I’m too stubborn.”

 

   Gabriel gave him a tired, scathing look. “Too damn right. Flying, angel radio, all that shit is much easier and less painful if you let instinct guide you instead of fighting it every step of the way. And angels need contact. In heaven we were all… connected. Before the fall of Lucifer, anyway. More like different aspects of the same creature than separate minds. Then he fell, and suddenly… we were apart.” Sam looked down, and Gabriel’s face echoed his mind, a careful blankness like he was being very careful not to think anything. “After that, well… I left. Home wasn’t home any more, I had to go. Even though I buried my Grace as far as it would go, I could still hear them, I knew that they were there. Kind of like background noise. I thought that was silence.” He turned his head to face Sam and looked him in the eye. “And now it turns out I never even knew what silence was. How do you humans stand it? The quiet?”

 

   Sam tried for a moment to imagine losing that sort of connection, and felt a surge of pity for the ancient, lonely being lying beside him. He knew Gabriel wouldn’t appreciate that thought though. “Don’t know. Guess you can’t miss what you’ve never had.”

 

   Gabriel snorted and closed his eyes again. “Yeah, well, we probably shouldn’t try tuning you to angel radio then. It would probably blow your tiny mind.”

 

   Sam grunted in agreement, relaxing. “Yeah, probably. Shut up and rest.” Gabriel grinned and soon his breathing deepened, his limbs slackening as he slipped into sleep. And if Gabriel ended up with Sam’s arm around him by the morning, then neither of them mentioned it. 

 

.o0o.

 

   It had taken a few weeks, but eventually Dean seemed to decide that the novelty of Sam changing species had worn off enough for him to mention it in casual conversation. After that, Sam kind of wished that the subject was still taboo. He could only endure so many rounds of angelic twenty questions. And it only got worse when Charlie began to get involved.

 

   “Dean, our wings are on a completely different plane of existence, colour doesn’t apply.”

 

   “But Sam, didn’t you say that Cas’ wings were darker than yours?”

 

   “Yeah, but-”

 

   “And you said yours were kind of dark brown…”

 

   “Yeah, but only because that’s the closest equivalent I could get!”

 

   Dean grinned and stuck his hand out to Charlie, wiggling his fingers. “They’re totally black. Pay up, red, I called it.”

 

   Dean noticed Sam’s confused expression as Charlie mutinously handed over ten dollars. “I bet her that Cas had black wings, she was betting they were white. Don’t try and take my hard earned cash from me, Sammy.”

 

   Sam rolled his eyes in exasperation.

 

.o0o.

 

   “I used to be an archangel,” Gabriel said mournfully as he stretched up on his tiptoes trying to reach the maple syrup.

 

   “I was one of heaven’s greatest warriors,” he continued, “And now I need a stepladder to reach things out of the top cupboards.”

 

   “Yeah, you’re pretty tragic,” Dean commented grumpily, reaching over to pull the bottle down. “Shut up and eat your breakfast, mister angelic warrior. And don’t tell Sam I let you at the syrup.” Cas was out early that day, trying to teach Sam how to land a little better when he flew, so Dean may have been more irritable than usual, but Gabriel wasn’t helping by being a whiny brat. Charlie was out in town getting the groceries, after they had discovered that going shopping with Gabriel and his sweet tooth meant having to empty the trolley of sneaked-in candy before they got to the register. So Dean was left with a slightly hyper ex-archangel, and no new cases to work on.

 

   Once he was sure that Gabriel was thoroughly entertained with drowning his pancakes like a five year old, Dean pulled his laptop closer, grinding his teeth.

 

   He hadn’t meant for this to happen, damn it. It was meant to be a one-time thing, that’s all. Just curiosity. But his brief fling with fanfiction was rapidly evolving into a full-blown affair, and he couldn’t seem to stop himself. Half the things he caught himself reading now weren’t even porn. He had tabs open to two fluffy one-shots and a 150k fic which would have been a full blown novel if published, complete with cohesive plot, character development and some beautiful descriptions of Cas’ wings (which he wasn’t jealous that he could never see. No, not even a little bit).

 

   That didn’t mean that it didn’t contain porn, of course. Rather good porn, actually. The position that fake Cas was in for this scene probably wasn’t overly realistic (nobody’s body bent like that, not even an angel), but by this point he really couldn’t care less. And anyway, who was going to argue feasibility when there were wings involved?

 

   “That’s not biologically accurate.” Came a voice from over his shoulder, and Dean could swear that his soul almost left his body in shock. He whipped around in horror. How had he not noticed Gabriel getting up?

 

   The man was reading the screen over his shoulder, eyes sparkling with mocking golden light as he chewed a mouthful of pancake and a smirk crept across his face. Dean tried to slam the laptop shut but Gabriel was faster, snatching it and dancing out of reach, still reading. “I wouldn’t get your hopes up, Deano, wings aren’t actually very sensitive. At least, not the feathers. Maybe by the joints, and wow, they got the alulas! They were right about the oil glands, too-”

 

   Dean groaned, making a grab for the laptop. “Stop, please. This is so wrong.”

 

   “Why, because now I know all the scandalous, kinky things you want to do to my baby brother? Could have been worse, I suppose. At least it’s not tentacle porn.” He seemed to shudder at the thought, then fell back onto one of the stuffed chairs with a soft “Oof” when Dean pushed him over, retrieving his laptop.

 

   Dean wanted the ground to open and swallow him and his incriminating laptop up, he wanted to go back in time and erase everything that lead to Gabriel of all people catching him reading wing porn. But it wasn’t as though denial was going to do him much good now. Time for damage control. He loomed over the smaller man in the chair. “Don’t tell anyone about this, you hear me?”

 

   Gabriel grinned up at him and pretended to think about it, his head tipped to one side in a disturbingly Cas-like gesture. “Well… I suppose I might be open to bribery.”

 

   “No, you son of a bitch! We don’t have money to spare, you know that-”

 

   “Oh no, I want to be paid in candy. Lots of chocolate. Ice cream. And in return, I will tell no one about your secret love of all things feathered.”

 

   “Agreed,” Dean said through gritted teeth. Candy was a small price to pay for keeping this a secret. And anyway, maybe he had lost this round, but the game was on. Gabriel wouldn’t even see the pranks coming.

 

.o0o.

 

   Sam was actually privately relieved when the pranks started popping up. He wasn’t even sure who started it. But if Gabriel was feeling enough like himself to play tricks on Dean, then it could only be an improvement.

 

   It started off as remarkably harmless considering that they had met the archangel killing people using conjured gators. The tricks were simple, childish ones like clingfilm across the toilets and dye in the hair gel (Sam still couldn’t figure out where he found the dye).     

 

   Dean being Dean, of course, couldn’t let that lie without retaliating and recruited Charlie to his cause. Sam ended up having to peel a giggling Gabriel off from halfway up the wall in the corridor where he had been firmly stuck with silver tape and dicks drawn on his face with sharpie.

 

   After a week and a half of toothpaste in the mayonnaise, greased floors, and an old mounted skeleton from the bunker’s medical room being dressed in Dean’s grey robe and moved to different rooms in the bunker to terrify people going to the toilet in the middle of the night, the competition escalated.

 

   Sam hadn’t even known that explosives could be made with common household items, but apparently with a little bleach and a lot of imagination, they could.

 

   “It was only meant to be a little explosion, Sam! More like a firecracker really. I might have gotten the quantities a little wrong. And the timing.” Gabriel actually looked a little sheepish while Sam patched him up in stony silence, but not nearly sheepish enough.

 

   “Still, at least it was me holding it, rather than the table catching fire. No harm done, eh?”

 

   “You idiot,” Sam hissed at him. “Do you have any idea what I thought when I heard you yelling your head off? I thought you were dying, Gabriel!” In the moment of panic that he had felt when he heard Gabriel screaming he had nearly blown out the power for the whole of Lebanon by attempting to fly through the bunker’s wards. He wasn’t going to let him blow this off.

 

   “I’m just not used to human pain, okay?” Gabriel whined but Sam shot him a poisonous glare and he shut his mouth.

 

   “You’re human now, Gabriel, you’re mortal. You’d better start acting like it.” Finished with healing the minor burns, Sam yanked his hands away and stormed up the steps and out of the bunker before the flickering lights could start blowing.

 

   Cas came to find him after a few minutes, the seraph coming to sit next to him. “Thank you for caring for my brother, Sam,” He said, “Gabriel can be a little foolish, especially when he is feeling frustrated.”

 

   “You can say that again,” Sam sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “God, I was so worried.”

 

   Castiel gave him a long look. “Gabriel is lucky to have you, Sam. He’s very fond of you, you know.” He said, then stood and vanished in a clap of powerful, dark wings. Sam sat on the bench for a while longer, trying to figure out what he had meant.

 

   He was surprised when, that evening, Gabriel came up to him of his own accord to apologise through his teeth, remorse leaking from his mind like cold fog. Sam accepted on the condition that the prank war stopped, and even Dean agreed that things had probably gone too far.

 

.o0o.

 

   After the prank war they decided that it might be better if at least some of them went hunting, if only to give the others a break from being confined with them in close proximity. Gabriel immediately voiced his interest, as he hadn’t been out of the bunker since his resurrection, and Sam volunteered to go with him. He could feel Gabriel’s urge to be gone, and his frustration that he was still so reliant on Sam and couldn’t just leave whenever he liked, and Sam hoped that a trip might ease the tension a little.

 

   Unusually, Dean said that he might stay at the bunker, but the reason became clear when Cas said that he was staying as well. It was just as well that they were going, Sam thought, because although Gabriel was now trying to tutor him to block out other people’s thoughts, their progress was painfully slow, and he didn’t think either he or the happy couple could last another week.

 

.o0o.

 

   “Come on, Cas,” Dean whispered to him as they stood together in one of the darkened, rarely used corridors deep in the bunker’s matrix, “They’ll never know. We’ll go out in the impala even.”

 

   Cas scowled. “No matter how much your car means to you, Dean, I would prefer if our first time wasn’t spent wrestling on the back seat. The impala was not built to accommodate two grown men lying down. It will only be a few more days, we should wait.”

 

   Cas smiled as he felt dean’s soul prickle with impatience, the sensation like pins and needles from being so close to him. He chuckled and pulled Dean into his arms.

 

   “It’s alright, Dean. I can’t wait until we’re alone either.” He pressed a soft kiss to his lips and Dean returned it with enthusiasm and not a small amount of frustration. He deepened it until Dean pulled away reluctantly

 

   “Um, Cas? If we don’t want this to go any further, we should probably stop here.”

 

   Cas was the one who groaned in frustration this time, and he rested his head on Dean’s shoulder. Dean huffed a laugh and started stroking his fingers through Cas’ hair. He couldn’t decide if it was frustrating or soothing.

 

   “Not long now. Soon, Cas, I promise.”

 

  

 

  


	8. On the Road Again

   There was a quiet, insistent knock on Dean’s bedroom door. Dean surfaced slowly from deep sleep, but the knocking didn’t stop, so he rolled out of bed, grumbling and rubbing his eyes as he blundered across the room. He cursed croakily as he stubbed his toe on the way to the door. He was going to put a cursed object in the bed of whichever horrific morning person decided that he should be awake.

 

   “What?” He grouched, pulling it open.

 

   Immediately he was pushed backwards by Cas barging into his room and almost slamming the door behind him, then stopping himself just in time and closing it with a soft click. He whipped back around to Dean, blue eyes wild and clothes and hair rumpled. Well, Dean was definitely awake now.

 

   “Dean, I was thinking on the conversation that we had last night,” By the looks of Cas he had been up all night thinking about their conversation, Dean thought. “And I concluded that I have run out of patience. I was thinking that, maybe, you would like to-”

 

   “Fuck yes.”

 

   Cas looked at him askance.

 

   “Dean, you don’t even know what I was going to say.”

 

   “I don’t care. Anything with you, Cas. I trust you. Look, I was thinking about it too, okay,” Dean almost couldn’t meet the intensity of Cas’ stare, felt like he was going to burn up under it, but their eyes were magnetised, “Actually, I was up most of the night thinking about it. And. Yes. I would like that. You know. With you.” Excellent, Winchester, the most eloquent sentence you have ever spoken. Where was his confidence when he actually needed it? Dean felt his face heating.

 

   Cas, though, Cas’ face lit up like he was going to explode with joy. He leant forwards and caught Dean’s lips in a burning kiss, only breaking it when Dean was gasping for breath. “Good,” he murmured against Dean’s skin as he kissed outwards along his jaw, “Good.”

 

   Dean was sure that he was going to spontaneously combust as his blood began to migrate south so fast his head was spinning. They stumbled backwards, hands clutching at one another and insane grins on their faces, until the bed banged against his shins and they collapsed onto it. Cas’ hands were trailing everywhere, tugging to get him out of his shirt, which was made harder as they were kissing again, fumbling in uncoordinated desperation.

 

   They were both half undressed now, and why was Cas wearing so many clothes in the first place? The suit trench coat and suit jacket were both long gone, but Dean’s fingers were trembling over the buttons on his shirt. Why were there so many buttons?!

 

   Cas gave an impatient sound and sat up, kicking off his suit trousers and fiddling with the buttons. His eyes narrowed and he lost patience, grasping the fabric and pulling, the buttons flying off with little pops and scattering across the carpet.

 

   Damn that was hot. Dean groaned, reaching up to pull Cas down against him and rolling them so that he was on top, and they both gasped at the warmth of skin, Cas’ fingers running firmly up his spine as he seized Dean’s lips in another frenzied kiss. Dean moaned and ground down, drawing a deep gasp from the back of Cas’ throat.

 

   “Dean, wait!” Cas rasped from under him, pulling back with an obvious effort.

 

   Dean grunted and propped himself on his elbows impatiently. “What?”

 

   “Sam’s still in the bunker, remember? Don’t you think we should… keep it down a little until your brother leaves with Gabriel? So that he doesn’t hear us too much?”

 

   Dean stopped and thought about it for a second. Then his face lit up with a wicked grin and he leant forwards.

 

.o0o.

 

   Sam had woken Gabriel early, using cups of hot chocolate as bribery, because he really, really needed to get out of the bunker. If he had thought that the sexual tension was bad before, now that they both knew that the attraction was mutual it was about a thousand times worse, if that was even possible. Charlie had made her escape the day before, claiming she needed to attend the AGM for her larping group, but the way she winked and whispered good luck in his ear as she hugged him goodbye made him wish that they were leaving that day too. Not that he didn’t love his brother, and Cas was pretty much his best friend, but it was only a matter of time before they jumped each other, and if he could persuade a grumbling Gabriel that he needed to be packed and ready to go by midday he might escape without too much mental scarring.

 

   But it looked like his time had just run out.

 

   He was trying not to listen, he really was, but the thoughts kept ringing out through the bunker as though Dean was bellowing them at the top of his lungs.

 

   _Shit, yeah, Cas, go on, that’s so good- aah! Cas, right there…_

   Sam had his eyes screwed shut in a vain attempt to block out the mental images but that just seemed to make them brighter.

 

   _Cas…ngh! Don’t stop!_ A wave of neon-bright colours and static echoed up from the rooms in pornographic high definition.

 

   “Nope! That’s it!”

 

   Frantic, he grabbed a groggy Gabriel by the arm, slung the mostly packed duffels over his shoulder and almost dragged him up the stairs.

 

   “Come on, we’re leaving for the hunt.” He almost growled.

 

   Gabriel looked up at him in annoyed confusion. “Hey! Weren’t we going to grab breakfast first? We should say goodbye to Cas and Deano too. Haven’t really seen them this…” then a moan echoed up the stairs from behind them, and Gabriel’s mind lit up with comprehension and he hooted loudly, dragging his heels.

 

   “Wooo get some, little bro! Well done Cas, you finally-”

 

   Sam clapped a hand over his mouth and dragged him out the door, yelling over his shoulder, “Thanks for waiting until I couldn’t hear you, assholes!”

 

 

   Gabriel had laughed all the way to the car. He finally managed to stop and wipe his tears of hilarity when they were halfway down the driveway, still hiccoughing occasionally.

 

   “Oh that was classic. I bet you got a real eyeful, eh Samsquatch?”

 

   Sam shot him his best unimpressed look.

 

   “Hey! Eyes on the road!”

 

   “You know I can see what’s coming fine,” Sam muttered, turning back anyway.

 

   “So, you and me, out on the open road. Tell me, if you can fly us anywhere, why are we taking this old rustbucket?”

 

   “Hey, I might not be Dean, but respect the car. I spent my childhood in the backseat of this thing.”

 

   “Wow. That is just sad.”

 

   “Shut up. Anyway, we’re taking the car because one, I don’t trust myself not to leave little bits of us behind if I try and fly us places, and two,” Sam grinned at Gabriel again, “Revenge.”

 

   “Revenge on who? On me by making me travel for hours and hours in a machine invented before suspension?”

 

   “Nah, revenge on Dean. If he can’t wait until I’m out of the house before getting it on with Cas, he can live without his baby for a month or two while we take care of a few cases. He has a whole garage full of other cars, and Cas can take him by angel air now. He’ll be fine. I might not survive an entire month stuck in a car with you, of course, but that’s a different problem.”

 

   Gabriel winked at him and put his feet up on the dashboard. “Yeah yeah, you know you love me really. Your brother’s relationship with this car borders on inappropriate, you know that, right?”

 

   Sam snorted through his grin. “Shut up. But yeah, it totally does. You should see him waxing it. It’s almost as erotic as watching him stare at Cas.”

 

   Gabriel sat back with a happy sigh. “I can’t believe little bro and that nitwit finally got their acts together. It took them long enough.”

 

   Sam snorted. “What would you know about it? At least you were dead! I had to watch seven years of longing glances, and now it looks like I’m going to be doing a lot more hunting so I don’t have to keep watching my brother’s dirty fantasies. It’s full on Fifty Shades of Grace in there.” Sam felt a shudder pass through his whole body and spread out across his wings. There were some things a little brother didn’t need to see. “I just hope that Cas is going to be all right with being in a relationship. I mean, it’s not like he has a lot of experience, is it? I hope he doesn’t let Dean walk all over him.”

 

   Gabriel snorted, quirking an amused eyebrow. “Are you kidding? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but once Cassie’s made up his mind about his strategy he tends to go for it and damn the consequences. I’ll bet he goes full Commander of the Garrison in the bedroom. Deano had better strap on his fuzzy handcuffs, because Cas definitely isn’t the submissive type.”

 

   Sam grimaced at him and told him to change the subject. He didn’t need those mental images either.

 

.o0o.

 

   They bantered good-naturedly back and forth for a while as they drove north, heading towards where Sam had found what looked like the latest salt-and-burn. They dealt with it quickly without any problems, and despite how much easier it was when Sam could sense where the bones were, he was impressed with how Gabriel managed to wheedle the information they needed out of grouchy, grieving family members.

 

   It was one in the morning by the time they finished and Sam drove out of town to find the kind of skeevy motel that would admit two men covered in grave dirt in the middle of the night. When Gabriel saw the expression on the woman’s face behind the bulletproof partition when they ordered a single king-size, he took great pleasure in giving her a particularly lascivious smirk and pinching Sam’s ass. Sam rolled his eyes internally but played along. She sort of deserved it after all, he could feel the waves of homophobia coming off her. A part of Sam, probably a part attached to his Grace, wanted to teach her a real lesson about judging others, possibly involving being strangled by her own clothing, but he ignored it.

 

   Despite the late hour, Gabriel was still in high spirits, probably still riding the adrenaline of a hunt well done. As soon as they got to the room he shut himself in the bathroom and Sam heard the shower turn on.

 

   Sam clicked himself clean and sighed. There was something not as satisfying about banishing the dirt compared to a long, hot shower, but every time that Sam let himself relax and loosened his grip on his vessel he would feel himself floating out of it, disconnecting back into his true form. It was disconcerting and it meant that he could never really relax, not even for a second, if he didn’t want his vessel to go all vacant or even worse, to accidentally abandon it completely.

 

   Sighing again with frustration, Sam flopped onto the bed. He inhaled deeply, seeing the hundreds of people who had slept on the bed before, then grimaced and cleaned the sheets with a thought. Tugging his Grace out of the well a little, he let it run under his skin. Ignoring the flickering of the lights, he reaching out a little to lengthen the bed, then grinned in triumph when his entire body was supported for once.

 

   A few seconds later there was an indignant yell from the shower and he yelled back “Sorry,” letting the Grace drain back into the well as the shower temperature went back to normal.

 

   Gabriel emerged a while later wearing an old shirt that must at some point have been Sam’s because it almost came down to his knees, strawberry scented but clean (Sam still hadn’t figured out how he had stopped Dean from giving him shit about ‘girly shampoo’. Sam had been trying for years and never managed it. Something about wings?). He walked across the room and flopped over face first onto the covers, then rolled smoothly into a ludicrously over the top ‘paint me like one of your French girls’ pose. “So, Sammy, are you going to leave me hangin’ or are you going to come to bed?” He waggled his eyebrows for added effect.

 

   Instead of replying Sam grinned, grabbed one side of the covers and whipped them out from under him, causing Gabriel to flail madly as Sam cackled. Gabriel righted himself then glared at him and beckoned imperiously.

 

   “Shut up and get over here, you great oversized hot water bottle.”

 

   Sam pulled out a few lore books and lay down next to him, and Gabriel plastered himself along his side, any awkwardness between them long vanquished by the routine. “You’re such a fucking nerd,” Gabriel muttered, already half asleep as Sam opened up the chapter on siren trends throughout history.

 

   “It’s the only reason I’m a living nerd,” Sam quipped back, but it was too late. Sam fondly looked down at the ex-archangel drooling slightly on his shoulder and wondered how this had become his life.

 

.o0o.

 

   The next day they were back on the road dealing with another ghost hunt a few hours away, another simple salt and burn, then they headed west to reach a case involving a witch cursing all the local tax collectors. Gabriel wanted to leave that one, but Sam convinced him to deal with it anyway.

 

   Next they took on a case involving multiple drownings up by some lake surrounded by beautiful mountains. When they got there they discovered that the deaths weren’t being caused by a vengeful spirit as Sam had thought, but instead some kind of ancient tentacle monster related to the krakens that they had to lop all of the arms off before it finally stopped trying to drag them into the depths.

 

   They arrived back at the motel absolutely coated in slime from the stumps of the thing’s limbs, which for some reason refused to be removed even using angel mojo. Gabriel managed to integrate three separate hentai jokes into their conversations in the time it took them to clean their weapons, which Sam had to admit was quite a feat.

 

   Sam was surprised to find that they worked well together as hunters, not rubbing each other up the wrong way permanently like him and Dean had a tendency of doing. He enjoyed the constant banter between them, and Gabriel always managed to find the right joke to make Sam laugh no matter how grim the situation. Sam sometimes wondered if all the flirting between them was real, but Gabriel flirted with almost everyone so it was hard to tell, even as a telepath. He found that he didn’t particularly mind it, in fact he secretly might have enjoyed it.

 

   Gabriel was fairly proficient with the physical side of the job now that he could aim a gun, although he still complained about the grave digging even though Sam did most of the work, and it helped that Gabriel was generally better with human interaction than Cas was. He was good with the victims, especially any children, and Sam remembered that one of his roles as an angel had been the protector of the innocent. He had never seen that side of him before, but he saw it now as he watched Gabriel sharing his sweets with the small boy whose parents had just been killed by the latest hex bag, eyes creased in a smile as the kid prattled about school, forgetting for a moment about his loss. Sam didn’t think that he’d ever seen Gabriel’s face so kind and open, and it tugged on his heart in strange ways as he watched them from the kitchen. Gabriel looked up and caught him watching, his face still soft without the trademark smirk as he smiled at him. Sam smiled back, the Grace coiling warm in his chest.

 

   Gabriel, like Dean, had an aversion to research if he couldn’t tell what it was straight away, but since Sam stayed up all night anyway it wasn’t a problem. He pulled his weight when it came to investigating. Sam was particularly keen on passing off the task of sweet talking the old ladies into sharing their gossip, which Gabriel eagerly took on because it was a role that would likely result in being plied with cookies.

 

   The car journeys weren’t as much of a problem as Sam had anticipated. Gabriel was fond of the nomadic lifestyle, which didn’t surprise Sam at all, and seemed to take to car travel well. The worst parts were Gabriel’s love of singing loudly along to eighties’ pop ballads, which Sam pretended to hate more than he actually did. As it turned out, unless fed large amounts of sugar, Gabriel tended to fall asleep in cars. Often Sam could drive through the night with Gabriel curled up on the seat next to him, his breath steaming the window against his cheek and his heavy snores competing with the growl of the engine. 

 

   So it was almost a month and a half before they began to tire of the road. Dean had tipped them off for one last case, a possible demon in a town on their way back, and then they were going to be back at the bunker.

 

   Sam called Dean while Gabriel was out getting food, trying to get a little information on the case. They had called pretty much every day, keeping the residents of the bunker in the loop with what they were hunting and getting research in return. As much as Sam loved his brother, he was glad he didn’t have to spend time around the new couple in the last couple of weeks. He had been scarred enough for one lifetime.

 

   _‘Gotta say, dude, I didn’t think you’d be gone this long. Thought you’d be fed up of short stack in a week.’_

   Dean’s voice came through the line tinny and echoed as Sam started packing salt into the shotgun shells, pressing the phone between the shoulder and his ear. “Yeah, well he’s less of an asshole than you, jerk. He doesn’t even play the same classic rock cassettes until I want to scratch my eardrums out.”

 

_‘Whatever, bitch, you know you miss me. I’m much more classy company. And less annoying.’_

 “Not really, I just have to keep Gabe out of the candy whenever we’re in the car. He’s like a gremlin; never feed him after midnight or he starts bouncing off the walls.” Sam had learned that after the first week when Gabriel had consumed an entire gallon bag of lollipops in the first thirty minutes of a five hour journey. Never again.

 

_‘Anyway, I want my baby back. I hope the candy man didn’t get sticky fingerprints anywhere, or I’m going to remove his fingers.’_

“Wow, Dean, the truth comes out. You haven’t missed us at all, you just want the impala." Sam grinned as he tapped the shells against the edge of the table to pack more salt in.

 

   _‘Too damn right. Cas, no, stop that, I’m on the phone-’_ There was a scuffling sound and a series of thuds and then the most un-Dean-like giggle that Sam had ever heard. Sam rolled a crystal of salt between his fingers, sensing the warm primordial ocean that its atoms had been dissolved in once.

 

   “Are you two done?”

 

   _‘No, we’re not. Yeah Cas, you too, see if I don’t get you back for that tonight!’_

 

   There was more muffled laughter on the other end of the line, then the sound of people kissing.

 

   “Gross, Dean. Couldn’t you just have waited until you were off the phone?”

_‘Nope. Hey, watch out for this demon. I’ve been following the omens, and there’s plagues, weird weather, cows turning inside out, the whole shebang. Looks like a nasty son of a bitch. You sure you don’t need backup?’_

“Nah, we’ll be fine. We took care of that lake monster, didn’t we? That was pretty big stuff, put up a hell of a fight. I’ve got angel mojo on my side now. Besides, wouldn’t want to drag you away from your bed, after all.”

_‘Shut up. Stay safe.’_

   “Sure thing. See you in a few days; enjoy the rest of the honeymoon!”

 

   Sam hung up before Dean could stop spluttering.

 

.o0o.

 

   At first it looked like any of the other jobs that they had covered in the last couple of months. Sam knew that demons were slightly larger than what they’d encountered so far, but he was well used to dealing with them with Dean, and he was confident that they could deal with this one on their own.

 

   It was fairly obvious that it was indeed a demon. The advantage that Gabe had, and one of the reasons that he had taken to hunting so quickly Sam supposed, was that he already _knew_ all about the supernatural creatures they were facing, definitely knew more than Sam did about them, so it was just the more physical side that he had to work on.

 

   Gabriel took one look at what was left of the mutilated cows and Sam could see immediately that he recognised the pattern which had been made with the bloody entrails on the floor. Obviously knowing that Sam was listening in, Gabriel began to run through all of the memories he had of seeing this in his long experience while nodding seriously along with the conversation. After reassuring the worried farmer that they would catch the obviously psychotic criminal before any further damage could be done to his livestock, they took a break for lunch in a diner in town.

 

   “So, what do you reckon?” Gabriel uttered around an enormous mouthful of bacon and chicken sub.

 

   “Yeah, looks good. I think you’re right, it’s probably a demon doing the rounds trying to make deals. We’ve seen the omens for hellhounds before and this isn’t it, so they’re obviously trying to write a lot of contracts rather than bring in their debtors.” Sam scanned through the paper quickly. “By the severity of the omens, I’m guessing that whatever deal they’re trying to pull off is something big.”

 

   Gabriel snorted and pulled his enormous slice of pie towards him. “Yeah, some stupid sucker probably wants to be crowned as the king of the town and have all the residents as his slaves. Or maybe they want a bigger dick, you wouldn’t believe how many people ask for that, even then you’re a pagan god. The number of times I got summoned by idiots with size complexes…”

 

   Sam felt his lips quirk. “Did you ever grant any wishes?”

 

   “Only my own.” Gabriel waggled his eyebrows ridiculously and Sam laughed.

 

   “Come on. Finish your pie. We’ve got to interview the lady who saw the suspicious people hanging around the building site at the top of town before some idiot sells their soul for a few more inches.”

 

.o0o.

 

   The interview was what Gabriel had come to expect from witnesses, and that day, Gabriel was a little tired and finding it too difficult to concentrate to work his usual magic with getting the witnesses to talk.

 

   “Yes, a young man was walking all over the site, I couldn’t really see what he looked like but he was wearing a hoodie so I think he was quite young.”

 

   Wow, he hoped that Sam was paying attention to what the old bat was saying, because it was going in one of his ears and out the other. She had given them a ten minute lecture on the origins of her best china when Sam had thanked her for the tea that they hadn’t asked for (thank fuck she had also provided cookies), and when Sam finally managed to steer the topic of conversation onto something relevant she was turning out to be not exactly a mine of information as far as he could tell. They needed to find this demon, not get the latest town gossip. He didn’t know how Sam was managing to stay focused. He found his eyes drifting up to her enormous mound of tightly permed hair. How did it even stay like that? It looked like it was defying gravity to stay attached to her scalp.

 

   “…don’t want it built here, you know, there’s been a lot of bad feeling from some of the town. Just a few people who are stuck in the last centuary. I think it’s a great thing that they’re doing.”

 

   Oh, Sam was prodding him, the torture must be over. Finally.

 

   “Thank you for telling us, ma’am. This could be very important for the investigation. Could you tell us where the site is?”

 

.o0o.

  

   “So where are we going?” Gabriel asked five minutes later as she waved them off.

 

   Sam snorted. “Did you not listen at all? The building site. The one where they’re building the Planned Parenthood clinic. The one that all of the protesters regularly picket, and where our latest local shady guy has been hanging out?”

 

   “Oh yeah.”

 

   They walked through the darkened streets of the town, discussing where they should set the trap that they were planning for the demon. Was it better to do it where people had actually spotted him, or try for somewhere a little more private where there would be fewer people to see them if they had to stab the guy?

 

   They turned into a darker side street.

 

   Gabriel didn’t see whoever it was who came up behind them due to his truly pathetic human senses. One second he was doing his best impression of Crazy Perm Lady and her obsession with fine china, the next thig he knew Sam was collapsing next to him, crumpling down without even a shout.

 

   He knew, somehow, that he was in trouble before he even turned. He wouldn’t stand a chance against anything that had taken Sam down so easily.

 

   He saw a face in front of him for half a second, symbols painted on pale cheeks. _Warded,_ he thought, that was how Sam hadn’t seen them coming.

 

   Then something hit the side of his head, hard, and the world went instantly and violently black.

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I did kinda cop out of writing that sex scene. Why? Well, my smut is horrifying, frankly. Nobody should have to endure any more of it than is necessary. So in a way, I saved you guys. There'll be more of that later.
> 
> Also, cliffhangers. Mwahahaha.


	9. Identity Crisis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet more grisly torture scenes ahoy! I should probably be worried by how much easier it is for me to wrote horrible agony than smut...

   Waking from unconsciousness was different from waking from sleep, Gabriel discovered. Like getting into a warm bath was different from being dumped into the Arctic Ocean.

 

   His head thumped with a pulsing ache and he let out a low involuntary groan as he shifted and his body vocally announced its displeasure about the position it was in. The demon must have really done a number on them. They had been walking to the construction site- the sigils- and then…

 

   He opened the eye that wasn’t swollen shut and blinked groggily around at a deceptively normal looking room. It was large, maybe the size of a small town hall, but there was ugly green and yellow striped wallpaper adorning the walls, and the curtains, pulled to keep out nosy eyes, were floral patterned and slightly lacy. There were a few fold out tables against the far wall with what looked like hastily set out summoning paraphernalia on them, and some more restraints set up on the wall next to it. Just peachy. Funny, he had been expecting a warehouse or at least a decent basement, but he supposed that not everyone could get an appropriate venue for their evil plans.

 

   There was a warm light coming from his left and when he glanced towards it he felt his heart jump into his throat.

 

   “Sam!” _Sam, are you okay? Talk to me, kiddo!_

 

   The limp pile of clothing inside the burning circle of holy oil stirred, and Gabriel sighed with relief as dazed hazel eyes blinked at him with confusion. It was surprising how small Sam looked, all curled in on himself like that, taking into account his massive height. Gabriel made to move towards him, but there was a rattle and a tug and he found that he couldn’t move more than a couple of centimetres due to the chains around his wrists, ankles and attached to a sturdy collar around his neck. Somebody wasn’t taking any chances.

 

   The door creaked open and Gabriel whipped his head around. A lady walked in, a friendly looking old woman with spectacles perched on her nose and a woollen cardigan. She could easily have been someone’s sweet old grandma. Gabriel was about to call to her for help, just in case their captors were idiots and had let her wander in by accident, but then she gave a predatory smile at the sight of his chains and the burning circle and the words died in his throat. Of course not.

 

   What could he do? Think, think. He had no idea what they’d done to Sam, but it was obvious that he was out of the game. When in doubt, bullshit. If nothing else it would buy them time.

 

   He tested his wrists against the cuffs, deliberately jangling them loudly. He had no idea whether the lady was a supernatural creature or just a particularly nasty piece of work, but he had to keep her away from Sam. He reclined against the wall and pasted on a cocky smirk before addressing the woman who was looking at him as though she was confused that he wasn’t begging.

 

   “You know, honey, if you were into bondage you could have just told me.” He threw her a wink. “Although, gotta say, I don’t think too much of the location. A little too much ‘gran’s living room’ and not enough ‘sex dungeon’, if you get my meaning. Doesn’t really get me in the mood.”

 

   She just pursed her lips, but bent slightly in front of Gabriel like she was talking to a misbehaving child.

 

   “There’s no need to be rude and inappropriate, young man. We are sorry, but we needed someone, you see, and you were pokin’ and pryin’ with your noses in our business. Not very polite of you. Not to mention running around with hellspawn! But someone has to protect this town from those evildoers who want to set up that camp of sin. Can you believe it? An abortion clinic, in our town!” she let out a girly, disbelieving laugh.

 

   She patted his cheek and smiled when he curled his lip at her. “Now, now! She won’t like that! Don’t you worry, I expect it won’t be long now, and our angel has told us it will be quick and painless. And you’ll be helpin’ to save so many innocent souls, won’t it be worth it in the end? She may even have mercy on your demon friend.” Demon friend? Did she mean Sam?

 

   Gabriel was confused how anyone could buy into the shit that she was spouting, but apparently she had fallen for it hook, line and sinker. “What angel? Who are you summoning? And Sam isn’t a demon,” he said sharply.

 

   Before the words were even out of his mouth, the door opened again and a young blonde man dressed in (hah!) a toga walked into the room. Oh, this was irony. His Father had to be laughing his ass off wherever he was, probably binge watching Netflix in a darkened room.

 

   Gabriel had to snort. He couldn’t help it. There was no way that man was an angel. For one thing he looked entirely too comfortable in his vessel. Unfortunately that meant that there was a list of whatever else would want to pass itself off as divine, and none of those options were good ones.

 

   “So if that guy’s an angel,” he said as casually as he could, “Doesn’t that mean he’s against the harming of innocents? He should probably let us go. We wouldn’t bother you,” He lied.

 

   Her eyes widened and she clutched at the little cross around her neck. “Oh, no! We couldn’t do that! We need someone to summon the goddess, and Gabriel has assured me that you are no innocent. You have been corrupted by that foul creature,” her lip curled as she glanced at Sam, hatred seething in her eyes, “Despoiled into fornicating with that _thing_. Don’t worry, it is not your fault. Gabriel has assured me that this will wash your soul, and you will be admitted to heaven!” she beamed at him like she was delivering the best news since Christ’s birth, and Gabriel would know.

 

   For a second, he was slightly confused. Gabriel? What in heaven’s name were they talking about?

 

   Then it made awful sense, and he realised with a snarl that the thing standing opposite him was disguised not only as an angel, but as _him_. Well, now it was just personal.

 

   Out of sight of the lady, the thing dressed in the pretty meatsuit flashed its black eyes at him and grinned, pleased with its disguise but still obviously with no idea it was actually facing the real deal, and Gabriel’s stomach sank.

 

   He turned back to the woman, irritation keeping the fear of being chained helpless to the wall by demons temporarily at bay. “Look lady, you have got some serious delusions there. For one, _he_ is not a demon.” He pointed at Sam, feeling fury burn through him on his behalf. Why was it always Sam who got the demons?

 

   “ _He_ , on the other hand, is. Yeah, that guy behind you, who I’m pretty sure is tricking you into selling your soul. Is it really worth damning yourself to the pit to summon whatever horrible thing he’s thought of, just to stop people doing something you don’t approve of?”

 

   But she just looked at him with a kind of smug, insincere sympathy and with a sinking feeling he knew that this was going nowhere. She’s not going to let them go, even if he begs for the next millennia, because she thinks that she’s _right_. He’s dealt with these kind of people before, who were so entrenched in their own beliefs that they couldn’t see when they were being blinded by them. As both an archangel and a trickster, he had always lost patience with them very quickly. He viciously wishes that he was a trickster again so that he could watch her flawed certainties get ripped apart before he killed her.

 

   Well, if he’s going down, he won’t be going without a fight. What would disgust a woman like her the most?

 

   He settles for leaning forwards in his chains so that they are face to face where she is kneeling next to him, a sharp smile on his face and hissing through his teeth at her, “Well, if I’m about to die, I guess that means I’d better confess my sins. For the record, you’re wrong about a lot of things. For one thing, you seem convinced that he’s _fucking_ me.” he word comes out harsh and hard as he spits it at her.

 

   “Also you seem to be under the illusion that that’s a sin in some weird way, like sex wasn’t made to be enjoyed. You’re wrong on both accounts. I don’t think he’s ever seen me as anything more than the guy he saved, who he made friends with despite the fact that I have royally screwed him over multiple times and probably will again.”

 

   He is so close to her face now that he hopes her eyes are hurting with the strain of focusing on him. “But you know what?” he says softly, “Right now I wish that you were right. I wish he was fucking me.”

 

   She flinches back in disgust, and that just fuels the fire of rage in Gabriel’s heart and he grins maniacally. Yep, he’s still got it; getting under people’s skin was one of his best and oldest tricks, and her buttons were just too big and obvious not to push.

 

   “Yeah! That’s right! I want him to bend me over that alter over there, and I want you to watch while I scream his name!” Yeah, he’s really getting into it, and he’s not even really sure if he’s lying about the fucking part any more but it doesn’t matter right now. Gabriel smirks and relishes the way she’s grimacing, like she wants to interrupt but is too horrified to even open her mouth. “If I’ve gotta die, I want his eyes above me to be the last thing I see, I want to be so full of- MMMPH!”

 

   The stuffy fabric sticks to his tongue as it gets rammed between his jaws, and he glares up at the ‘angel’ who is trying to fight the victorious smirk and keep up the pretence.

 

   “Don’t be fooled by his twisted tongue,” he tells the woman smoothly. “The demon has corrupted him, but we can still save his soul. We must do it now, before it is too late, and he is resigned to the pit forever.”

 

   Gabriel rolls his eyes at the awful clichés, but any noise is muffled by the gag. Evil granny nods, relieved that she doesn’t have to look at him anymore, and with one last pinch of her lips turns her back to go to the alter. The demon bends down on his hunkers in front of him Gabriel, and now that he is out of sight of his mark his face twists into a smirk of glee.

 

   “What she’s summoning? They’re going to rip you apart into little strips, hunter. I’m going to take that woman’s soul. It’s so easy to sway them, isn’t it? They do it themselves most of the time.” He says in a low, ecstatic voice, almost purrs it. “And then, they’ll probably take apart that angel apart, too. They like to play with their food before they eat it. But he probably won’t last very long anyway, not once we’ve made him watch them tear you to shreds. Not with the way he was looking at you earlier.”

 

   Gabriel blinked at the demon in surprise. Well, that was news to him. He thought back to his conversations with Sam over the last few days, running through them quickly, and was there something there? Was there something between them? He had known for some time now that there was another kind of warmth in his heart every time Sam wrapped an arm around him had very little to do with the Grace, even though he had tried not to acknowledge it. That would only end up with people getting hurt, if he had learnt anything from the past. And he had certainly never expected the affection to be returned.

 

   Sam had been flirting back more, but Gabriel had thought that had just meant that they were getting used to each other. He tried to shut down the hope that was now beating in his chest, but it kept breaking through. Maybe Sam had felt that warmth too.

 

   But there was no time to think about it right now. This revelation was coming with the worst timing imaginable. It was also perfectly possible that the demon was talking bullshit to mess with him. If they lived through the night, then they might talk, but as Sam was still barely conscious it would have to wait.

 

   The demon trailed a finger menacingly up Gabriel’s neck and the hairs stood up in a line after it. It grinned at him, watching him with a knowing, predatory expression and Gabriel scowled at it. This was why demons were among the worst monsters. It wasn’t like the majority of rogue angels who just didn’t _get_ the concept of love and attachment, or things like rugarus that had forgotten that they were ever human. No, demons remembered what it was to love even if they didn’t any more, they understood it just enough to twist it and use it as a weapon. Gabriel narrowed his eyes at the spoiled thing that had once been human but it just smiled with too many teeth and rose to its feet.

 

   “Is it ready, Rosa?” It was back in its angel guise again, voice sweet and commanding.

 

   “Of course, my dear.”

 

   With a snap and a lurch, Gabriel found himself on the other side of the room, chained next to the alter and the startled looking woman.

 

   “Well?” the demon appeared behind her, “Go on. Read the summoning. They will take the sacrifices then they will do our bidding and bring down the wrath of God on the sinners in this town.”

 

   She blinked, obviously unnerved by the display of power, but obeyed the demon. Her creaking voice started chanting over the lit candles and Gabriel strained to catch every word. His heart sank further as he realised what they were summoning. This was no demon but a full-blown goddess. The Morrigan, of all creatures. The three part goddess of war and destruction. They had never met while he was running with the pagans, so at least they wouldn’t recognise him, but the rumour mill had relayed some nasty stories.

 

   The woman dropped a match into the bowl and the vile mixture ignited with a puff of ominous black smoke. The old lady shuffled out of the room without a backwards glance, and apparently the demon didn’t want to face down a war goddess either because after pulling the gag roughly from Gabriel’s mouth he followed her out the door with a triumphant grin. Now it was just Gabriel, Sam and the Morrigan.

 

   For a moment the smoke just hung there below the high ceiling. But then it gathered itself like a growing storm, billowing out as it flowed into the shape of an enormous raven the size of a dog, which alighted on the floor.

 

   It regarded Gabriel hungrily with one clouded eye, at the same height as his where he was chained upright against the wall, before coalescing into the form of a young woman with pale skin and long, matted tresses of dark hair hanging down to her elbows.

 

   He felt his heart start thumping harder in his chest, the chill of adrenaline in his veins as she observed him, her dark eyes locked onto him like a predator with its prey. He still couldn’t actually _see_ anything supernatural about her, no aura or second shape like he once would have been able to detect, but his body seemed to subconsciously know what she was anyway and was screaming at him to _run_.

 

   She stepped forwards, her long dark cape brushing against the polished wood of the floor, and Gabriel flinched back involuntarily. She saw that andsmiled at him with a maw of sharpened teeth and took another step. Gabriel heard Sam groan and shift across the room but couldn’t take his eyes off the goddess. He tried to stand a little straighter against the wall.

 

_Any time now would be good, Sam._

 

   “Evening, Badb. Or is it Macha? Sorry, you’re all so similar. Listen, you don’t want to be here, I don’t want to be here, some really stupid humans pulled you across the globe but if you kill them you’re free to go and everyone’s happy! What do you say?”

 

   He tried for his most winning smile. His voice came out slightly higher than normal, throat constricting around the words. Sam groaned again and Gabriel saw him lift his head out of the corner of his eye.

 

   The goddess chuckled and a shiver ran down his spine.

 

   “Well I would, you see,” her voice was deep and throaty and seemed to hang on the air for longer than it should. “But you’re a sacrifice. That makes you extra juicy. I’m going to kill the humans as well anyway, I hate being summoned, and I’m going to have fun with that angel over there. Looks like somebody clipped the little birdy’s wings.” she threw a hungry glance at Sam, who had started to push himself up with wobbly arms.

 

   Before he could start trying to distract her from Sam she turned back to him and gave a mock reluctant sigh, reaching into the flowing black material of her robes and pulling out a long silver dagger, etched with symbols.

 

   “You know, I would prefer to have a little _fun_ with you as well before we get down to the whole killing part,” Gabriel shuddered as she ran a long, sharp nailed finger down his neck, “But you’re just too tempting. You soul looks just _deliciousssss_ …”

 

   “Looks can be deceiving, I’m really tough and chewy,” Gabriel gasped, trying to fight against the panic that wanted to turn his limbs to water.

 

   She bared her teeth again. “We’ll see about that,” she hissed, and he saw the silver flash of the dagger as it came towards him. From next to him, he heard Sam yell, “NO!!”

 

   Then he felt a line of fire slash across his abdomen and couldn’t stop the scream from ripping up his throat. Red splashed across his vision and painted the Morrigan’s smile bloody.

 

   He thrashed, trying desperately to get away. His whole body jerked as the knife descended again, and he choked on another scream.

 

   Time seemed to jump and skip as a haze of pain descended. He had slumped sideways at some point, instinctively twisting away from the dagger, but she wasn’t there any longer, where did she-

 

   A blur of movement in the background, then a bright bright light that he had to turn away from, but the motion made the fire in his belly blaze and it was stabbing his eyes and he may have blacked out for a second-

 

   Familiar eyes staring at him, full of panic, warmth cupping his face and a mouth moving fast but there were no words only garbled noises-

 

   More gut-ripping pain, agony in fact, why had he ever thought hunting was a good idea, why, “God, I’m sorry, Gabriel, I’m so sorry, I swear I’ll make it stop, but I need to-”

 

   Then finally warmth, blessed warmth flowing through his skin, into his tattered body and up into his chest.

 

   He sighed and choked on a cough, then heaved a full breath, and another. There might have been more talking, but his ears were full of cotton wool and the universe pressed in close. There was only him and the warm amber light, the beautiful imperfections of earthy green and blue wrapping around him in the half-dark.

 

   He clutched the warmth closer and let himself drift, tethered to the world by a thread.

  

 

 

 


	10. Waiting is the Hardest Part

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More gory bits at the beginning of this, then just a bunch of fluff to make up for it.

Sam sat next to the bed in the motel room, rubbing his forehead and glancing at Gabriel’s sleeping face every five seconds, even though logically he knew that he would have sensed it if he had moved. It had been almost a day since Sam had accidentally flattened the town hall and Gabriel still hadn’t woken up, aside from a few moans.

 

   Every time Sam closed his eyes, memories from the night before flashed in front of him, and he cursed his new angelic nature for their crystal clear quality, the horror preserved in his mind forever.

 

   The previous day, he had come around from unconsciousness in the hall to a terrible sensation of claustrophobia and nausea, as well as an uncomfortable prickling restriction around his wings from the wards. With a small surge of panic, he had found that he wasn’t properly connected to his body. He had felt Gabriel’s mind whispering to him urgently from not far away and pushed more forcefully against the weight holding him down.

 

   The wards themselves were relatively easy to get past, and Sam burst through them with brute strength, but by the time that he had tucked himself back into his vessel and was fully in control of his limbs again something else had already arrived.

 

   Under the thin veneer of humanity, the Morrigan’s true face was a twisted, beaky mass of darkness, hostile and hungry. For a second Sam was so distracted that he almost missed the blade in her vessel’s hand.

 

   He had shouted out, but it was too late. There was blood everywhere and Gabriel was screaming, Gabriel’s _soul_ was screaming, the beautiful white-gold light guttering like a candle in the wind. Sam’s Grace flared cold and sharp in his chest, the sudden rush of panic and aggression blinding. For half a second he had forgotten about the holy fire, and his fingertips were still singed from where he had tried to cross the flaming barrier in desperation.

 

   Then reason had taken hold again, and he had yanked his jacket off to throw over the flames. Half a second later he was out, his wings roiling with Grace in his distress, carrying him across the room in a heartbeat.

 

   The Morrigan barely had time to turn before his blade dropped into his palm and he ran her through with it. She died with a look of surprise on all of her faces, her true form dispersing into dust and the body slumping to the ground.

 

   Before he had consciously registered moving he was kneeling at Gabriel’s side, staring down in horror at his battered body. With a flick of thought the manacles were gone and Sam had caught him as he slumped, the movement causing him to jerk and moan weakly again.

 

   Gabriel’s eyelids had fluttered, his gaze hazy as he looked up at Sam, obviously barely conscious through the pain and blood loss. Sam could almost see the image of Dean dying in his arms hundreds of times just like this, but this time it was Gabriel choking on blood and it was real. This wasn’t an illusion. For half a second, Sam had just stared, frozen, terrified of not knowing what to do, but a low groan of agony had him acting on instinct.

 

   With one shaking hand, Sam had reached for the mess spilling from Gabriel’s abdomen, pushing the long strings of blue-veined intestines back inside while using the other to hold Gabriel down as his screams rent the air. Sam’s voice trembled like his hands as he apologised over and over, even as Gabriel’s blood smeared his forearms and bubbled up around his fingertips.

 

   Finally, all of Gabriel’s insides were on the inside again, even if Sam was only holding the gashes closed. Sam somehow he felt nauseous, even though he hadn’t eaten for weeks. Gabriel had slumped once he had finished, his screams dying out into whimpering groans and his eyes were rolled all the way back into his skull, glassy and white. Under the gory smears of red his skin was a worrying pallid grey tone.

 

   It took a few tries for Sam to relax his Grace so that the frigid chill died down and it warmed, no longer eating away at him. Eventually, it slid out through his fingertips like viscous light. He had sighed with relief as he felt it flow out into Gabriel’s body, eager to heal the damage and he cradled the golden soul gently, pulling it back in where it had drifted slightly out of its damaged vessel.

 

   When he was finally done Sam slumped back, taking deep breaths he didn’t really need to try and calm himself. He staggered to his feet, then bent down to carefully scoop Gabriel up into his arms, holding him close to his chest for take-off.

 

   In retrospect he should have taken longer to calm down. With the fist powerful beat of his wings, all the tension which had been wrapped around them like a restrictive band from being bound so long released in a blue-white shockwave of energy.

 

   He hovered between dimensions and watched as the energy ripped through the structure of the town hall, tearing the walls to the ground like they were made of lego bricks. Blue-hot fire crackled over the remains until there was a black plume winding into the sky and he could distantly hear the scream of fire engines starting in the distance.

 

   “Oops,” He muttered.

 

   _Well, at least the evidence is taken care of,_ he had thought as he changed the angle of his wings and thrust himself and Gabriel forwards.

 

   Sam had alighted in an empty motel room a few states away as gently as he could, flaring his wings back just before they landed so that there was only a tiny jolt. He didn’t dare to take them back to the room they had been in before they had been abducted in case the demon had already found the fire and worked out that they had escaped. He would be easy to deal with, but Sam had already put Gabriel in enough danger for one day. He could always go back for their bags later.

 

   Gabriel hadn’t stirred when Sam placed him on the bed and drew the covers up around him and sat by him, his wings arching forwards and over instinctively, an invisible protective barrier around them.

 

   Sam was a little worried that in his inexperience with healing he might have missed something. It had now been a day and Gabriel still hadn’t woken up. He was itching to call Cas, to do _something,_ but he was worried that he might do more harm than good with flying back to the bunker. He had lost his phone, and he didn’t want to leave Gabriel.

 

   He got up again and started pacing again, trying to keep his thoughts under control as his wings twitched against his back in reaction to his agitation, causing the lights to flicker.

 

   If only he’d come around faster, hell if he’d sensed the demon coming sooner, then Gabriel wouldn’t be in this mess. He _shouldn’t_ be in this mess, Sam was an angel now, he should have been able to look after one friend for more than a few weeks without putting them in mortal peril!

 

   The guiltier he felt the harder his wings began to flinch, flicking out from his back and making the television crackle ominously.

 

   Gabriel finally to stir, a light shiver running through him as his eyelids flickered. Setting aside his own thoughts Sam hurried over to the side of the bed, kneeling awkwardly next to it and catching Gabriel’s wandering hand in his own.

 

   “S’m, ‘s that you?” the words came out slurred and drunk, and if Sam hadn’t been able to hear Gabriel’s thoughts as well he might not have understood.

 

   “Yeah, right here, Gabe. How are you feeling?” Gabriel blinked at him a little more consciously and grimaced. “Okay, not good. Where’s the pain?”

 

   Gabriel regarded him blearily from one eye. “’S not so bad, Sammich. Why the long face? We got out! We’re alive!” He gave a tiny mock cheer and winced again, his hand going to his chest.

 

   Sam was not impressed. He could feel the feathers on his true form bristle out and he snapped as the acidic guilt ate at him. “Only just, Gabriel. You nearly fucking died! Right in front of me! And don’t try telling me it doesn’t hurt, I can see your nervous system lighting up like the fourth of July.”

 

   Gabriel gave him a long, hard look at his waspish tone, his hazel eyes burning into Sam as though he could still read his thoughts. Then he seemed to remember something and lifted the covers gingerly. He looked down, and traced the slightly pink new skin on his belly and running up his side with the tips of his fingers, a permanent reminder of his new mortality etched into his flesh. One side of his mouth turned up in a smirk.

 

   “Well, no guts, no glory.” Sam rolled his eyes at the inappropriate humour. “Personally, I think it feels okay, considering my intestines were on the floor a few hours ago. That’s something I never want to see again. How did you get out of the holy oil? Did you gank her?”

 

   “Of course I ganked her. I threw my coat over the flames and broke the circle. To be honest, I’m surprised no one else has ever done that before.” Sam looked away, a bitter taste in his mouth. “But we should never have been there in the first place. I should have been able to protect you, you shouldn’t have gone through that and it’s _my fault_.”

 

   “Stop it, Sam.” Gabriel’s mind was suddenly sharp and he grabbed Sam’s chin and pulled him around to hold Sam’s eyes with his own. Sam let him.

 

   “Listen to me. This was not your fault. I know exactly what’s going on in your head right now; you’re having a little guilt fest because you reckon that just because you were in the neighborhood, that means you have to take the weight of the world on your shoulders. You don’t, people are responsible for their own actions, that’s kind of the whole point of the free will package.”

 

   Sam spluttered a little in denial but Gabriel pushed on. “Did you get that woman to sell her soul? No. Did you summon the Morrigan? No. Did you tell the demon how to trap us and keep us helpless? Wow, look at that, also no. In fact, the only thing you did do, Sam, was save my life, and I’m pretty damn grateful, even if it hurts like hell at the minute. It doesn’t matter that you’re a little less experienced with the whole angel thing, okay? Just don’t go wallowing in angst, or you’re going to be boring to live with.”

 

   His rant apparently over, Gabriel let out a tremendous yawn, followed by a shiver.

 

   Sam opened his mouth to argue, the self-loathing still swelling inside him like an infection, but with a glance at Gabriel’s face he deflated. He was right.

 

   “Yeah yeah, okay.” Sam sighed and let his forehead rest on the bed next to where he was still holding Gabriel’s hand. The healing had taken more out of him than he thought it had. “Just… don’t do it again, okay? You had me worried there.”

 

   Sam felt a moment of hesitation, then the smaller hand in his let go and wriggled out of his grip. Sam was confused for a second, then fingers began carding through his hair and he sighed, relaxing into the touch embarrassingly easily.

 

   Gabriel huffed. “Aw, Sammy, I’m flattered. Don’t worry, I’m not planning on a repeat performance. Really, I’ll be fine, Sam.”

 

   “Stop being so optimistic about your humanity, it’s unnatural. I’ll know you’re back to yourself when you start moaning.” Sam muttered, voice muffled by the bedding.

 

   The hand in his hair withdrew. “Shut up and get in here. I can’t cuddle myself, you know.” Gabriel commanded imperiously, but tonight there was something else in his tone as well, hesitation maybe, like he was being careful. It almost sounded like a question.

 

   Sam looked up and his breath caught slightly in his throat. The warm light from the lamp behind Gabriel was trapped in his hair in a circlet of mussed gold. Soft shadows were cast across his face, erasing the deep bags under his eyes and highlighting the curl of his lips into a gentle smile, so different from the usual mocking smirk as he gazed down at Sam with something shining bright in his eyes.

 

   For a second they sat there, just looking at each other. Then Sam smiled back, rose to his feet (a little less gracefully than usual), took off his shirt and climbed into the bed. As soon as he was horizontal Gabriel tucked himself against Sam’s side and wrapped around him, tucking cold toes against his calves. His mind hummed with contentment despite the way that Sam could tell that his body still ached.

 

   Sam smiled and closed his eyes as he felt Gabriel’s soul warming against him, the hyperactive hum of his thoughts eventually dropping to a low buzz as his breathing slowed and evened out.

 

   There was a strange knot in Sam’s chest, something that he hadn’t felt for years (hadn’t _really_ felt it since Jess), and he thought that maybe it should have terrified him.

 

   He wasn’t fussy about the gender of his partners, but he had found from past experience that the men usually didn’t want the same things that he did out of a relationship, so he had usually ended up with women. Maybe he had just been looking in the wrong places. He knew that Gabriel definitely wasn’t fussy about gender, which maybe had something to do with being an angel and technically having no gender for the majority of his life, or perhaps it was due to playing a pagan god. Sam had seen the woodcuts of some of the more epic orgies that Gabriel had participated in and described with great relish to a cringing Dean. And although Gabriel flirted with everyone (including Charlie, who played along, and Dean who would sputter as though Gabriel was offending his masculinity), this suddenly felt like it was going somewhere. He thought he might like the look of where they were headed, despite the history between them.

 

   Usually, he couldn’t look at potential… relationships without seeing his past lover’s faces, poor Jess and Sarah and even Ruby. Dead or evil or both seemed to be the norm for Sam’s exes.

 

   But for some reason, it was alright for them, maybe even _because_ of the amount of history they had between them. Gabriel had seen Sam at his lowest, soul eaten and blackened by demon blood, and Sam had seen Gabriel bloodthirsty and vicious in a twisted version of his original justice. If they could overcome six months of solid hatred, Sam was pretty sure that they could deal with a few lover’s spats. They were both too tired of hate. They didn’t want to fight any more, not after heaven and hell and the Cage.

 

   This was different, more complicated, but they could _make_ it work. Very gently, so as to not wake Gabriel, Sam tightened his arms around him, and out of sight his wings enveloped them protectively.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay, especially as I kind of left you on a cliffhanger last time! Updates will probably still be a bit sporadic, as I'm working on exams and coursework at the minute as well as my GBB fic (which has taken on a life of its own), but I'll try and get one out at least every week from now on. Don't be too alarmed if I don't make it, though. I'm also going to make more of an effort to get back to everyone who comments, to those who have so far thank you so much, they are all appreciated!


	11. Sex and Violence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all!
> 
> So, long time no update. Sorry about that.  
> No, I have not become an isolated sheep herder.  
> No, I am not dead from exam stress.  
> I have an excellent reason which involves my GBB fic, which grew from the estimated 20k into a 90k monstrosity and devoured all my writing time, but in good news I get to post that quite soon so yay! Regular posting schedule, ie. roughly once a week, will resume from here on out.
> 
> On a related note, I'm in urgent need of a beta for said monstrous fic, so if you're interested in 90 thousand words of reverse!verse then if you could drop me a line in the comments, that would be excellent!
> 
>  
> 
> .

Gabriel woke up slowly and not a little reluctantly. He stirred, stretching, then coiled back into the warmth. He felt a subtle vibration hum against his cheek as his pillow shifted.

“Sleep well?”

Gabriel grunted and screwed his eyes shut, trying to go back to sleep, but it was no use, he was up now. With a reluctant sigh he opened his eyes and rolled over so that not all of his limbs were wrapped around Sam. It happened a lot. They were used to it.

“Mornin’”

Sam was looking down, eyes twinkling warmly at his sleep-slurred voice, all shifting green and gold in the yellow light seeping through the curtains. 

“Feeling better today?”

“I was fine yesterday.” Sam rolled his eyes subtly. “Yeah, fine. I feel better. A little less like my head’s been used as a basketball. Happy?”

“I am, actually,” Sam commented. Gabriel hadn’t meant that as an existential question, it was a little too early in the morning for those, but Sam sounded genuinely surprised to find that he wasn’t miserable this morning. Which was a little sad for the kid. The Samsquatch deserved some fun in his life.

“Well, we should take advantage of the good mood while it lasts!” He grinned up at Sam with a ridiculous wink and Sam grinned back down, snorting, and the warmth in Gabriel’s chest bloomed again.

There it was. That was the problem. He kept wanting to ask, but the words kept sticking in his throat every time he opened his mouth. Usually, propositioning people wasn’t something he had an issue with. Subtlety wasn’t his style, he would just ask and get on with it. Although he hadn’t anticipated sticking around even to the next morning with most of his conquests. Asking a guy if he was interested in you with the morning sunlight streaming through the curtains was very different to popping the question while tipsy in the back of a shady bar, and dealing with willing virgin sacrifices was in another realm altogether. 

Lust, he knew what to do with. This, however…

So no, when he thought about it, he really hadn’t done this many times. His stupid human body wasn’t helping him either, his heart beginning to thump more rapidly in his chest and his stomach squirming slightly, although that might also be the lack of breakfast.

“Sam?”

“Hmmm?” Sam looked down at him curiously, probably wondering why his heart rate was all over the place.

“How much did you hear, while you were, you know, snoozing in the holy fire ring?”

Sam hummed again. “Not much. I was a little busy breaking through the sigils.”

They lay there for a minute in silence, mulling it over. Gabriel wondered how to broach the subject as he watched the dust motes turning in a beam of sunlight and remembered the dawn of the First Light, how he had watched all the matter being born in an infinite moment of utter brilliance.

“Gabriel?” Sam asked after a while.

“Yeah?”

Sam hesitated, pausing. “Um… I’ve been wanting to ask you. If you were. You know. Really interested… in me, that is. Um…”

Gabriel pushed himself up and looked down at him in disbelief. Sam’s face was open and a little vulnerable, but there was still something guarded about him, like he was trying not to hope too hard. His hands twisting in the bedsheets in a way that suggested that he wasn’t really conscious of doing it.

“Damn it, Sam!” 

Sam’s face dropped and he curled up a little. Gabriel realised how Sam had taken his outburst and backtracked quickly. “No, I didn’t mean that, I meant you beat me to it. Me, beaten to the punch by an emotionally stunted Winchester! I’d almost found the guts to ask you for real, and then you have to blow it!”

“So… is that a yes?” Sam’s voice was hesitant, but there was a smile peeking out from the corners of his mouth.

Gabriel snorted, but his smile was genuine. “Of course it is, you enormous idiot.”

“It’s not a trick?”

Gabriel felt his face fall, growing serious. “Of course not. I wouldn’t do that to you, Sam.”

Sam seemed to relax a little. “Good to know. I will stake you if this is a joke.”

“Sam, if it was, I would deserve all the stakings I would get, but I promise it’s not.”

Sam was staring at him, a small smile on his face. Probably looking at his soul, Gabriel thought. He would bet that he was lighting up the room right about now, given how he felt like his heart must be glowing with happiness in his chest. It was still a strange thought that he had a soul of his own, after millennia of nothing but Grace. He wondered what it looked like. All twisted and stained probably, he thought, polluted by all the darkness and blood of his pagan years.

“No it isn’t.” Sam was frowning softly down at him, and oh yeah, he probably couldn’t help but read Gabriel’s thoughts with them so close together like this. “It’s kind of… gold. And really bright.”

“Really?” He couldn’t help the note of incredulousness that slipped in.

“Of course. It’s the brightest I’ve ever seen, apart from Dean’s.”

“Yeah, well, Dean’s a special case.” Gabriel grumbled at the ceiling. “Must be a vessel thing, ‘cos you were bright too, Sam. Back when I could see you, anyway.” He turned to face him and reached up to run his fingers over the angular planes of Sam’s face. “I wish I could see your soul now,” He sighed wistfully. “I bet it’s really something, kiddo.”

Sam’s teeth bit his lip, obviously holding back yet another apology for the Grace-snatching that he had had no control over and had nearly killed him as well. Gabriel heaved a sigh for the emotionally constipated moose and moved forwards, wrapping his arms around him in a tight hug. He still wasn’t quite sure how they had got to this point, but he wasn’t complaining. Sam was all that mattered now.

.o0o.

Sam relaxed into Gabriel’s arms, still sleep-warm and comforting. He propped his chin against Gabriel’s shoulder and closed his eyes, soaking in the buttery light coming from his soul. He would never have thought of Gabriel as a cuddler, what with the protest he had initially put up about them having to sleep together, but now he could feel the satisfaction threading through his mind like warm silk. He supposed that casting yourself out of heaven and then not having any meaningful contact with people for who knows how many millennia would do that to a person.

They lay like that for some time, and Sam almost thought that Gabriel was dropping back into sleep when he felt warm hands push under his shirt, running up his back before pressing firmly just under his shoulder blades, the equivalent place where his wings would have emerged and where his Grace ran closest to the surface of his vessel. It wasn’t exactly erotic, just incredibly intimate, as though Gabriel was reaching inside him and stroking his very soul. Gabriel dug his thumbs deep into the muscles of his back, and he felt his Grace rush eagerly towards the touch as out of sight his wings shivered, fanning out across the room. 

He distantly heard himself groan as he buried his face into Gabriel’s shoulder, his body going limp. He felt as if he were floating, and the only thing tethering him to the earth was the man holding him in his arms. They stayed like that for a few minutes, or it could have been hours, just lying there wrapped in warmth, the pads of Gabriel’s fingers smoothing lazy circles into the skin of his back.

Then he felt Gabriel mouthing light kisses up his neck and against his jaw, and yeah, now it was sexual. He hummed and leaned down slightly, and Gabriel was there ready to meet him in a deep, heady kiss.

Then it hit him that he had almost lost Gabriel yesterday, that the golden soul in his arms had almost been destroyed, and suddenly the kiss became a little desperate, neither of them willing to pull away again. He felt Gabriel shudder then push back into him with renewed eagerness, and Sam rolled them so that he was on top, bracing himself on his elbows so that he wouldn’t crush Gabriel under the full weight of his vessel, mouthing and nipping at the soft skin of Gabriel’s throat when he had to pull away to gasp for air. 

“Yeah, Sam, come on…”

He pulled away for a second, dragging his shirt off so that his torso was bare, then reaching down to tug off Gabriel’s. Gabriel arched his back to help, a blinding smile on his face as his soul coiled through his vessel, reaching out to touch his Grace. Sam grinned and pressed a hand to the still-red print on Gabriel’s chest as he bent to kiss him again, smiling into it as he felt Gabriel’s full body shudder and his soul surge up against his fingertips.

Gabriel clutched him closer and then groaned when Sam’s leg fell between his, rubbing against the solid heat of him. Sam moaned and his arms nearly buckled as he felt wave after wave of arousal and lust pouring from the soul underneath him, feeding into his own emotions and amplifying them in a feedback loop, and he wrapped his arms tightly around the soft-warm-mine body.

It was a shock when his arms went through him as though he wasn’t there. 

For a second, Sam was confused. Then he was terrified. Why couldn’t he feel Gabriel? He couldn’t feel his warmth, his body, his soul, he wasn’t there, where was he?! The panic built as he scrabbled, searching for the man he had been holding just a second ago and coming up empty. 

But there; he could still feel his soul, the warm golden glow of it. It seemed brighter than if had been, almost as if-

Almost as if he could see entirely through the body. Almost as if he was using a different set of eyes. 

Understanding dawned and he opened all of his other eyes as well, looking around with all his senses. He was in-the-room and high-above-the-room, looking down at his limp, dark-empty-vacant vessel on the bed. He was disconnected. Why was he disconnected?

He had lost what he had been feeling when he ascended, all the arousal just abruptly gone, leaving an empty-cold hole in his chest which was slowly filling with confusion and hurt. He wanted those emotions back. Could he just… get back in?

He leant down, stretching out a long-fingered hand to his vessel and the agitated golden soul, touching his empty body. Immediately he felt a Pull, dragging him into the vessel like he was being sucked down a drain plug. He fought the urge to resist as he was sucked down-down-down…

He breathed a deep gasp of air into his vessel’s lungs, then another, and opened his human eyes.

Gabriel kneeling over him and watching him warily, hands cradling his face as he knelt in front of him, his brow crinkled with worry.

“Sam? Sammy, are you back with me?”

Sam took another deep breath then nodded, letting out a shaky sigh.

Gabriel sighed in relief. “Thank dad. There you are. Thought I lost you for a minute. You were so spaced out I thought you were never going to find your way back to the vessel. You nearly crushed me when you left the building, you giant sasquatch.”

“Sorry. I don’t know what happened. One minute we were… and then…”

“Let me guess, you got sucked into your true form?” Gabriel was watching him closely.

“Yeah, I think so. And then I couldn’t get back.”

Gabriel was nodding sheepishly. “Yeah, I, er, should have remembered. Often a problem when angels take vessels for the first time, they get overwhelmed by all the physical sensations and check out for a bit. You haven’t been having too many problems with that, but obviously this was just… a bit too much input for your tiny little brain to process.”

Gabriel opened his arms in an offer and Sam sighed and leant into him, feeling Gabriel’s heart rabbiting in his chest still. He must have given him a scare. The more he thought about it, the more embarrassment and shame welled up inside him.

“Sorry for, you know, killing the mood.” He mumbled against Gabriel’s shoulder

Gabriel pulled back, grinning. “Sorry? No, I’m taking it as a compliment. I made you feel so good your soul actually left your body. It’s confirmed, I am a sex god. Ow!” Sam punched him lightly in the shoulder.

“It’s amazing I can fit on this bed when I’m sharing it with your ego. And anyway, weren’t you already kind of a sex god?”

.o0o.

Eventually, a lot of kissing, a shower and breakfast later, they started making plans to get back to the bunker. Sam had wanted to stay under cover for a little longer, since the demon was probably still looking for them, but he was reluctant to leave the car and most of their belongings behind at that town, no matter if it was being used as bait.

“Go on,” Gabriel had told him with a playful shove, “You’d better get that car or Dean will beat your ass, angel or not. Let’s get back to the bunker, I can’t wait. It’s our turn now, Sammy! We’re gonna traumatise them so bad!”

Sam laughed, imagining Dean’s face walking in on them kissing already. “I’ll be back in a second. Sit tight.”

Gabriel gave a sarcastic salute as Sam raised his wings and cupped them, pulling them in a powerful downwards beat, propelling himself through the aether back towards the town that they had departed the day before. He circled their motel room warily, but he couldn’t feel any trace of the demon.

Maybe we’re finally getting lucky, he thought to himself as he dropped down into his vessel and went to pack their belongings.

They weren’t getting lucky. 

Just as Sam swiftly trotted out towards the car, his arms full of their duffle bags, there was a sudden burst of static in his brain so loud that he dropped them and clutched his hands over his ears as it resolved itself into Gabriel’s voice, confused and urgent.

Samuel come back, the demon’s here, I need you to come back, Sam, he’s-

The panicked prayer cut off abruptly but Sam was already flying back the way he had come, desperation making his wings blur and churning the aether in his wake, his heart gone cold and taken over by a wave of panic and rage so enormous that he couldn’t remember past it, think around it. He didn’t slow his landing, crashing into the motel room where he had left Gabriel with a rush of wind and a booming crack of thunder, wings raised high in threat.

The demon was gripping Gabriel by the throat, his feet kicking off the ground, but as Samuel landed his expression of savage amusement turned to fear and he let go, backing away. Gabriel crumpled to the floor, gasping for breath, but Samuel’s focus was locked onto the demon slowly backing away from him, eyes wide. It tried to teleport away, but Samuel reached out, lightning quick, and seized it with a snarl and a shriek. A cold bloom of rage started in his chest and was spreading outwards, freezing him to ice as it went, his thoughts crystallising into a chant of smite smite smite!

He felt his mouth curl into a feral smile as he poured the energy through his veins and into the demon, felt it turning to desiccated ashes as it screamed. Then it was gone. It wasn’t enough. Sam glared around the room, Grace still roiling, wings still twitching up in threat, teeth bared. He wanted to rip and tear and smash and smite and-

“Sam?”

What was that? There, in front of him. A small human soul, golden and iridescent, crouched on the ground, watching him warily and inching closer. There was something about the soul, something he had to remember… The cold twisted itself more firmly around his heart, biting down on his thoughts, and he bared his teeth in warning. Should he kill it? The soul stopped moving, still watching him.

“Sammy, you need to relax, okay? Come back to me, kiddo. You’re safe.”

The human took another step, and before Samuel could snarl, lay a hand on his vessel’s arm.

Warmth flowed into the skin and he gasped as it raced through his veins towards his heart, and Sam heaved a great breath in and staggered as Gabriel caught his arm and dragged him towards the bed. His wobbling legs gave out and he slumped to the mattress, breathing heavily. Gabriel perched on the bed next to him, leaning over him, concerned.

“Sam? You back with me?”

“What the fuck was that?” He gasped.

Gabriel was still peering at him, frowning. “I don’t know.”

Panic started to rise in Sam’s chest. “But Gabriel, it wasn’t me! I couldn’t stop! I couldn’t even remember who you were, fuck…” He hadn’t been able to remember Gabriel. He had nearly killed him. Gabriel. All of the wonderful warmth of the morning had just vanished in an instant, sucked away on a tide of cold rage, and he hadn’t been able to do a thing about it. What if he couldn’t control these powers? What if he hurt someone? It was the demon blood all over again.

“Sam, calm down. What did it feel like?” Gabriel grasped his wrists tightly, stopping him from gripping his hair.

“I dunno, cold. Like ice in my Grace, I was so angry. Like…” Sam’s voice trailed away as horror swept through him. “Like Lucifer,” he whispered.

Almost imperceptibly, Gabriel tensed. There was a long, rigid silence where they were frozen, staring at each other.

When Sam spoke, his voice was barely audible. “Gabriel, what’s happening to me?”

Gabriel’s face softened and he pulled Sam forwards into a rough hug. Sam could feel his heart kicking strong and fast through the fabric of his shirt. “I don’t know, Sam, but I promise you, we’ll figure it out. I promise. You’re still you.”

Sam sighed, loosening a little, and gently squeezed back before moving away to run a hand through his hair, mind buzzing with unpleasant thoughts. He frowned when he caught sight of the bruised and reddened skin around Gabriel’s throat where the demon had gripped him.

“Shit, it hurt you,” he muttered, leaning closer to inspect the injury.

Gabriel shrugged. “It’s okay. Doesn’t hurt too much.” Sam could hear the lie in the way that Gabriel’s voice grated roughly, and felt another burst of savage anger that he quickly pressed down. Maybe he had killed the demon a little too quickly.

He reached forwards, curling a hand around the fragile column of Gabriel’s neck, pushing his Grace through the skin, knitting together the broken blood vessels and damaged tissue. Gabriel sighed in relief as the swelling went down and the purpled skin healed. 

Then Sam remembered how he hadn’t even recognised Gabriel, how he could have destroyed him in a moment, and quickly pulled his hand away. He couldn’t trust himself with these powers, and he couldn’t trust himself with Gabriel’s safety. There was something evil about him, inside him, and it always came back to bite. He let his hand fall to his side and swallowed the lump in his throat.

Gabriel sighed as Sam’s hand fell away from his neck, glancing at him in a worried kind of way, then got back to his feet, wincing as his spine popped. “Come on then, fly boy, get us back to the car. We should get back to the bunker, pronto, before Dean organizes a search and rescue party.”


	12. Hello Darkness, My Old Friend

   They set off back to the bunker, Sam zapping them to the impala in half a second. They travelled in worried silence for the most part, aside from a few empty quips from Gabriel, and they rumbled up the gravel drive and stopped outside the front door in the late afternoon.

 

   “Do you want me to go in and check that the coast is clear first?” Gabriel asked with a shadow of his usual smirk, “Just to make sure that they’re not getting it on on the kitchen table?”

 

   “Don’t bother, the mental scarring is inevitable anyway,” Sam sighed, pulling the duffels from the back seat, “I’m going to be treated to the highlights of Dean and Cas’ Epic Honeymoon whether they’re actually at it or not. Knowing Dean it’s all he’s going to be thinking about for the next month at least.”

 

   They pushed their way through the door, lugging their bags with them, and Gabriel was amazed to see Dean up and about, sitting with his feet up on the table in the library, grinning up at them and wearing what looked like nothing but a worn grey robe.

 

   “Wow, Deano, you’re actually up! Thought Cassie would have you handcuffed to the bed.”

 

   As soon as he said that Dean blushed slightly and Sam cringed, apparently under an onslaught of memories.

 

   “Jesus, Dean! Keep it PG! I did _not_ need to see that.”

 

   Dean opened his mouth to talk back, still blushing furiously, but he was interrupted.

 

   “Hello Sam, Gabriel.”

 

   Cas came walking from one of the corridors leading to the kitchen, in a similar state of undress as Dean and carrying two steaming mugs. He smiled at them as he walked past, setting a mug on the table in front of Dean. Then he seemed to register their expressions and he turned to look at them more closely, his face becoming serious.

 

   “How did the demon case go? I take it that there were no problems, but we were a little worried when you didn’t call last night.”

 

   “Yeah, Cassie, it didn’t exactly go as planned.” Gabriel glanced at Sam, considering, then snagged Dean’s coffee before Dean could reach for it, sitting down opposite him. Dean scowled at Gabriel for a second, then stole Cas’ cup instead. Cas let it go with a long suffering expression.

 

   “I’m just going to put away the stuff,” Sam muttered, turning for the rooms. Gabriel watched him leave, long legs striding quickly out of the room.

 

   “What happened?” Dean was looking at him with a frown as soon as Sam’s footsteps were out of hearing, slipping his feet off the table. “He looks… off.”

 

   “Yeah, well, kind of a busy hunt.” Gabriel took a sip of coffee and sighed, wondering how much to tell them about what had happened. As much as he wanted them to know what he had seen and deduced, he couldn’t deal with them freaking out as well.

 

   “We ran into some trouble with the demon. It was hunting for marks and the prize idiots were desperate enough to sell their souls to stop them building a Planned Parenthood. It clued in that we were hunting it pretty quickly, caught up to us while we were investigating, slapped Sammy with some fancy sigils and clubbed me over the head like a helpless baby seal.”

 

   Cas’ eyebrows were getting progressively closer together and Dean was leaning forwards over the table, listening intently.

 

   “After that, well, I woke up in the town hall, which, seriously, needed a makeover. They had Sam stuck in a circle of holy fire. Turns out they were trying to summon the Morrigan.”

 

   Castiel sucked in a sharp breath.

 

   “Yeah, exactly. After that, shit hit the fan. Sammy got us out just in time, but let’s just say it wasn’t pretty. We lay low that night and some of the next day, then the demon found out where we were hiding.” Gabriel took another gulp of coffee, looking off into the distance. “Sammy got a little smite-happy with him but something went wrong. He kind of… blew up. More than he should have. I’m… worried about him,” he admitted.

 

   Dean and Castiel glanced at each other.

 

   “That’s what’s wrong, isn’t it? What’s why he looks weird?” Dean glanced back at the corridor that Sam had left by. “So why is he worried if he got a little bit smitey? I mean, he is part archangel. Terrifying, awesome warriors of god and all that. It’s happened a few times already, back when we were still dealing with the Grigori that found your Grace. Couldn’t it just be one of the things that comes with the package?”

 

   Gabriel scowled into his mug. “No. This was different. It wasn’t bloodlust, it was cold-blooded killing. I remember what it’s like, Dean, it’s an instinct to protect and defend, it makes your Grace burn hot. But that? That wasn’t it. The closest thing I’ve ever seen was Lucifer that last time-” He broke off, swallowing. “What was most worrying was that it obviously wasn’t Sam, not completely. He kind of snapped out of it afterwards, looked at his hands like he was thinking about cutting them off.”

 

   Cas was looking definitely worried now.

 

   “So, what, you’re saying that it definitely wasn’t your Grace? Or Sam himself? What could it be, then?”

 

   There was a moment of silence as they all thought it through.

 

   “You said it looked like Lucifer? Well, what if it _was_ him?” They both stared at Dean, who shuffled awkwardly in his seat, eyes flicking between them. “Well, possession leaves bits of Grace in you, right? And Sam’s had Gadreel and Satan riding his bones, so,” He shrugged, “What if there was a bit left in him from Lucifer? But wouldn’t we have seen it before now if it was going to affect Sam? It’s been years, and there’s never been anything like this before. It doesn’t make any sense.”

 

   Dean stood, his chair scraping sharply across the floor, and started to pace like an agitated wolf, his fists clenching and unclenching. Cas’ eyes tracked him back and forth across the room.

 

   “No, it makes perfect sense!” Gabriel said animatedly. “It’s because it would have been dormant before. Then suddenly, Sam gets my Grace poured into him. Because it’s a big piece of Grace, the energy of his soul is enough to reactivate it so it draws the rest of the Grace in and starts an energy loop, and bam! Sudden power surge! More than enough to reactivate his old psychic powers before he even started to get angel mojo on top of that, and enough to resurrect any old dried up bits of Grace lying around.”

 

   “We removed what remained of Gadreel’s grace while trying to track him, so it’s not surprising that his Grace was not apparent,” Castiel put in.

 

   “So energy activates Grace,” Dean reasoned slowly with a look of dawning horror on his face, “And when it gets activated it starts pulling all the other bits in and starts trying to reassemble. Which means…”

 

   “Which means that I’m going to end up pulling Lucifer back out of the cage to earth.”

 

   They whipped around.

 

   Sam was standing in the doorway, his face pale and shocked and worryingly blank.

 

   “I have to go. I have to leave, I’m putting you all in danger.” His voice was strained and thin and the lights flickered ominously, the air filling with static like an oncoming storm front. He turned, heading for the stairs back out of the bunker.

 

   “No!” Gabriel almost shouted, jumping out of his seat and hurrying over to him, grabbing his arm. He barely noticed that the flesh that was normally warm and human had solidified to the consistency of a particularly tense marble statue.

 

   “We’re going to fix this, Sam, okay? We’ll get it out of you.”

 

   “How?” Sam’s voice was quiet and broken, and Gabriel’s heart broke with it. “We researched extracting Grace from souls after the witches put your Grace in me. There’s no way to get it out of a soul once it gets activated. There’s nothing in the lore, Cas couldn’t do it. You can’t help me, Gabriel.” He didn’t even sound surprised; just resigned and sad, as though he had been waiting for the other boot to drop and had already accepted his fate.

 

   “I don’t care, okay!” Gabriel was shouting now, desperate, his eyes starting to burn. “You can’t go! Not now!”

 

   Out of the corner of his eye he could see Dean, who had hurried up behind them with Cas on his heels, glancing between them.

 

   “He’s right, Sammy. What would you even do, man? You shouldn’t leave, not yet. I mean, at least here we could do more research, right? Out there you’re alone. Maybe the other bits of his Grace won’t be able to get through the wards around this place, who knows. It’s at least worth a shot, right?”

 

   A bulb burst above Sam’s head, scattering shards of glass around them, revealing his inner turmoil. “I just want to protect you. All of you. If I bring Lucifer here, he’ll kill you. You know that, Dean.”

 

   Dean reached out for an arm as well, trying to calm Sam down. “He’d kill us anyway, man. If he gets out it’s only a matter of time for all of us. The best chance we have is to stop it before it happens. And we’ve got a little time, yeah?”

 

   Sam looked around at all of them, his eyes still glowing in agitation, then let out a long sigh, wilting in defeat. The bulbs stopped flickering.

 

   “Fine, I’ll stay. But if I sense that he’s coming, then I’m going to go. I won’t risk your lives.”

 

   Gabriel nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. We’ll do it, you’ll be fine.”

 

   Sam gave half a sad smile. “You don’t believe that.”

 

   Gabriel looked him in the eyes, trying to hold them and inject as much conviction into his tone as possible. “Yeah, I do. I think it must be a human thing, because you remember when you gave me faith? Back when I thought that you could never win against impossible odds? I think it’s time for me to return the favour. You can beat this, Sam. We’ll beat this.”

 

   Sam didn’t reply, but his eyes softened and he finally relaxed. He placed his hand on Gabriel’s forearm and gave a gentle squeeze of unspoken thanks.

 

   “All right, lovebirds,” Dean interjected, still looking between them, “Let’s get this party started.”

 

.o0o.

 

   “Will it just drag up Lucifer’s Grace? You know, rather than Lucifer himself?”

 

   Gabriel raised his head from the mound of books as Dean broke the tense silence that had been hovering over them for three hours, interrupted only by the rustle of paper as pages turned.

 

   “Because when your Grace got activated, it didn’t bring you back with it. We had to actively go and get your soul. Maybe all we have to worry about is Sammy absorbing more Grace.”

 

   Cas shook his head reluctantly. “No. As Lucifer has never had a soul and is still attached to his Grace, it would pull him out with it, and as Sam is now something akin to an archangel rather than a human vessel, it is likely that the process of more Grace growing within him would destroy him from the inside out. There would be nothing of Sam left, just Lucifer riding in his body.”

 

   Gabriel watched as Dean’s face twisted in frustration and his hands twitched, as though he desperately wished that this was a problem that could be solved by hacking off some monster’s head.

 

   “It doesn’t exactly… feel like Lucifer.” Sam said quietly, voice small. He shifted uncomfortably next to Gabriel as they all turned to look at him, and Gabriel could have sworn he heard his wings ruffling against his back.

 

   “The first time that he possessed me…” Sam said slowly, his eyes dark with memory, “His Grace wasn’t just cold. I mean, it was cold on the outside, but the bit on the inside burnt hot, like your Grace. Like there was a tiny bit of him that was still an archangel.”

 

   Gabriel felt a surge of horror and grief. His brother had still been there? After all that time? And he had helped to kill him. He had tried to stab him in the heart, the same as Lucifer had done to him in the end. Maybe he had deserved it.

 

   Sam must have felt his emotions, because his eyes went wide and gentle and he put a hand on his shoulder, his long arm easily reaching around the pile of books. “You couldn’t have done anything, Gabriel. He was gone by the end, there was nothing left of whoever he was before. The cold ate him, too.”

 

   Gabriel believed him but couldn’t meet his eyes, looking down at the callouses on his thumbs as he twisted his hands on the table in front of him. The horror dissipated slightly with the knowledge that there was nothing that he could have done, but the grief wouldn’t leave. Damn his humanity.

 

   “But this thing that’s inside me,” Sam continued and he shuddered, “This is just the cold. Cold and dark. Nothing like your Grace. I don’t think it’s even Grace at all; it just feels like emptiness. Dark, cold emptiness.”

 

   Gabriel stopped inspecting his hands and looked up, a horrible possibility dawning on him. “Wait. Did you say dark? Dark and empty?”

 

     Sam blanched, obviously seeing what was in his thoughts. Cas also caught on immediately. “No. That’s impossible. It was locked away before the dawn of time. You would remember, you helped to fight it.”

 

   “Why do I get the feeling of impending doom when you all say things like that?” Dean said dryly.

 

   Gabriel laughed bitterly. “Because your lives are just an endless conveyer belt of awfulness, and you are constantly either dealing with the apocalypse or waiting for the next one to emerge over the horizon?”

 

   Dean raised his coffee mug to Gabriel in a toast of agreement then turned to Cas with a grimly expectant look. “Okay, I’ll bite. What are you guys going on about?”

 

   Castiel scowled. “What Gabriel is suggesting is that it is not precisely Lucifer that is attached to Sam and currently being pulled out of the Cage,” Cas elaborated. “We think that it might be something older, and much more powerful. We think it’s the Darkness.”

 

   “The what?”

 

      Cas explained quickly about the primordial force while Gabriel’s thoughts whirled. He remembered the Darkness, all right. He remembered how it had almost killed them to lock it away, how their Father had entrusted the lock that kept it from obliterating creation to his brightest child. He remembered how life in heaven was never quite the same after that, how Lucifer slowly became colder and more withdrawn, his father leaving, his family coming apart at the seams. In many ways, she had been the beginning of the end.

 

   And now, after finally killing what had been left of his favourite brother, the Darkness was making a bid to return to the surface, and in the process it would destroy what was left of his Grace and Sam’s soul. Sam, who had survived an entire lifetime of pain and trauma, who took the never ending shitstorm that was his life without the complaint that he was certainly entitled to. Sam, who was strong enough to come out of the other side of the worst part of hell cracked but still unbroken, still willing to trust and hope and put faith in people. The Sam who had saved his life on multiple occasions now, who had given him faith in humanity and shown him that it was worth it in the end, worth all the pain and suffering. Sam, who he was just starting to realise his own feelings for.

 

   They would find a way out of it. They had to.

 

   “How did you stop her last time?” Dean asked, breaking him out of his thoughts.

 

   He laughed sourly. “Well, let’s just say that dad did most of the heavy lifting, and he has not only left the building but also left the country. I think we can count him out of the ring, even when it’s his sister we’re trying to get rid of.”

 

   “Wait, his sister?” Dean stared at Gabriel incredulously. “Is this some kind of soap opera or what?”

 

   “’Fraid not. Dear old dad threw her out into some kind of pocket universe since apparently he didn’t have the balls to chuck his own sibling into the Empty, then gave the padlock to Luci. That went well, obviously. He then passed it on to a guy called Cain, kind of like evil herpes, but that’s a long story. Anyway, I’m pretty sure that Luci wass still containing the source of the Darkness. By the sounds of it, He was pretty much just it’s vessel by the end, and that’s what’s reaching out to Sam now. If she gets out, there’ll be no stopping her.”

 

  “So we’re just going to sit here while Sam gets corrupted by the angel equivalent of the One Ring?”

 

   Despite the circumstances, Gabriel was relieved to see the corner of Sam’s mouth twitch with a smile, obviously holding back a comment on Dean’s not so secret inner nerd.

 

  “Of course not, but there’s only one logical idea that I can think of. We’ve got to get her out of Sam and into the Empty, it’s our only chance. Nothing can survive out there, it’s like a black hole, sucks you in and then there’s no coming out again. We don’t really know what’s out there, as nothing’s ever made it back. No idea how we’re going to separate the Darkness from Sam’s soul, though. At the moment it’s stuck in there pretty firmly, feeding off of him like a parasite, growing inside of it until it’s big enough to burst out, like a virus.”

 

   “So basically, Sam is a horcrux for the darkness?”

 

   Gabriel was about to scoff when he thought about it, “Yeah, actually, that’s pretty much the theory.”

 

   “So, how do we open the empty?” Sam was suddenly business like, flipping through the books with purpose. “We might as well work on that if we’re not getting anywhere with the whole embedded in my soul thing.”

 

   “Well, Death would be the most reliable, but any reaper should be able to do it in theory,” Gabriel said slowly. “All we’d need is a place suitable for a portal and someone able to open it. I don’t think it’ll take much to convince them to help out, they probably want creation intact as much as we do.”

 

   “Don’t even think about it!” Gabriel looked up, startled at the change in Dean’s tone and wondering what he had done to deserve being growled at, but Dean was scowling at Sam.

 

   “What?” Sam scowled back with all the aggrieved grumpiness of a younger brother.

 

   “You’re thinking of just going for it, aren’t you? I know you, Sam. You’re not throwing yourself into the empty, end of story.” Dean turned his thunderous expression on Gabriel. “Why the hell did you tell him?”

 

   Gabriel’s eyes widened as he realised what Dean was talking about, and the way that Sam was pursing his lips told him that Dean had guessed right. He hadn’t even thought that Sam might consider that.

 

   “Sam! No!” He gaped. “Shit, don’t even think about it. You would be destroyed, get it? No heaven, no hell, just nothing, forever!”

 

   Sam actually shrugged. “Better than leaving you guys to watch the world burn when I could have stopped it.”

 

   Dean actually growled. “Not until there is no other way. You hear me, Sam? That is literally the last option.”

 

   “Please, Sam, let us try.”

 

   Sam slumped back, scowling. “Fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It should be noted, after seeing the s11 finale, that since this was planned and plotted somewhere back before the start of the season I have gone for more of a primeval-force-of-evil theme for the darkness than the show took it, although i loved their take on it as well!


	13. Plan Z

Fifteen hours later, and they had still found nothing. Cas had gone to try and contact Hannah and the other angels to see if they had any suggestions, but so far they hadn’t heard back from him.

 

   Sam had been fidgeting the whole time, unable to sit still, a nagging certainty at the back of his brain that something was going to go wrong. He tried to dismiss it for the time being; the other times that he had felt the effects of the Darkness, it had been triggered by an obvious threat. Nothing like that could get into the bunker usually, it was one of the best warded places on the planet, so he shouldn’t have to worry about randomly going berserk. But still, the worry remained, an uncomfortable itch in the back of his brain.

 

   Between them, Gabriel and Dean had already worked their way through half their store of coffee and several energy drinks, which was the only reason that they were still awake. Sam was thankful that they hadn’t hit the beer or the hard liquor, but he had enough to worry about without having to stave off impending heart attacks from caffeine overdose.

 

   “Jesus, Gabe, no more caffeine or you’ll start levitating.” Sam could see the coffee racing around his bloodstream, increasing his heart rate and generally causing chemical chaos in his body.

 

   Gabriel grinned up at him, pupils dilated slightly, and patted him on the arm. “You worry too much, Sammykins. I’m fine.”

 

   Despite his fighting words Gabriel’s hands tremored as he clutched his third mug of the night, and Sam saw his fingers start to slip.

 

   “Hey, watch out for the-”

 

   The mug seemed to fall in slow motion, slipping from Gabriel’s fingers and tipping as it went, brown liquid sloshing out as it continued down. Sam watched, mesmerised, somehow unable to stop it as it fell, seemingly suspended in the terrifying certainty that something was about to go horribly wrong.

 

   Then the mug hit the floor with a sharp ceramic shatter, and Sam’s mind fractured with it as the Darkness roared to the front, smothering him entirely.

 

.o0o.

 

   Gabriel knew he should probably lay off on the coffee, but it was currently the only thing keeping him working, and he couldn’t afford to sleep right now. Damn his human body and its ridiculous need to turn itself off every few hours.

 

   He needed to find a solution, and he needed it fast. He remembered the last time he had faced the Darkness when he had been barely more than a fledgling, his wings still downy and small. He had hidden behind Lucifer when they had gone to confront her, but when the time came he had fought with his brothers. They had defeated it eventually, but it had been more by luck than skill, their Father doing most of the work for them.

 

   Of course, after that he had made the mistake of thinking that a primordial force of destruction could ever be contained. Things had gone to shit, but if Gabriel could figure out how to prise the Darkness off of Sam’s soul without destroying him in the process, they might be able to salvage this situation. This thing had already taken one family from him, he wasn’t going to let it destroy another.

 

   Which was why he kept drinking coffee.

 

   He should have seen it coming; his hands had been shaking for the last fifteen minutes, the pages trembling as he turned them, so it was only a matter of time before something got broken. The handle of the mug slipped from his grasp and shattered, coffee and sharp fragments of china skittering away across the polished wooden floor

 

   “Ah, shit.” He said, frowning down at the mess, then looked up, pausing. “Sam?”

 

   Sam was standing, frozen, his eyes fixed sightlessly on the pieces on the floor. The silence around him was palpable, the air too dense in a way that made the human part of Gabriel’s brain want to run and hide. There was tension running wild under the deceptively still surface of Sam’s frozen body, energy leaking out of him like radiation. As Gabriel watched, a shudder went through him.

 

   “Sam,” Gabriel whispered, suddenly afraid, his heart beating too fast in his ribcage.

 

   Sam’s eyes snapped up, but Sam wasn’t there. Gabriel didn’t need to see his soul to know with horrified certainty that the thing that cocked its head at him and fixed him with a piercing stare wasn’t his Sam. His body was held differently. The shoulders that normally curled inwards, trying to look smaller and non-threatening, were squared and broad. He stood with his spine straight, looming over Gabriel.

 

   Gabriel gulped. He had never truly realised before now how much _bigger_ Sam was than him now, how much stronger. Sam was usually such a calming presence, always trying to put others at ease despite his hulking figure, but there was none of that Sam here. Gabriel took a tiny step back but Sam snarled, a horrible animal sound from the back of the throat and deep in the chest, darkness gathering at the edges of his eyes, wisps of it seeping in like demonic smoke.

 

   Gabriel froze again, not daring to move as Sam growled in a continuous rumble.

 

   “Gabriel? Sam? I thought I heard a-” Cas froze in the doorway as Sam’s gaze snapped onto him, another vicious growl ripping out of him. His entire body tensed, coiled like a spring, and the bulbs above them sparked as the silhouette of huge, arched wings flickered into view, an obvious threat. Sam was about to pounce, and his brother would be dust.

 

   “NO!” Gabriel shouted, leaping between them. He didn’t even see the blow coming, but suddenly he was flying, then there was a shock of pain and he was on the floor. There was a sharp ache radiating through his chest and every breath came with a gasp and a wince.

 

   Then suddenly Sam was kneeling next to him and he flinched back slightly, instinctively. Sam recoiled with guilt, and Gabriel registered with a sigh of relief that the haze of darkness was gone from Sam’s eyes and the threat had faded out of the air as fast as it had come. His Sam was in there again, his eyes wide in guilt and confusion, his hands fluttering over him as though they wanted to heal but weren’t sure if they should touch.

 

   “I’m so sorry… I didn’t… I couldn’t…”

 

   “Not your fault,” Gabriel wheezed, then winced again. Sam gingerly put a hand on Gabriel’s side and his ribs popped back together in a rush of warmth. He took a few deep breaths then slowly relaxed, but Sam’s hand was still shaking where they rested against his ribs.

 

   “I was going to kill him. I couldn’t stop. I could have killed you,” He whispered, horrified. Gabriel opened his mouth to say something, maybe to reassure him, but he changed his mind and closed it again, just reaching to grasp Sam’s hand in a tight squeeze, pulling him forwards into his arms as he trembled. He met Cas’ grim gaze over Sam’s shoulder. If he was already this bad when Gabriel broke a mug, then they didn’t have much time

 

   Dean sauntered in with a sandwich then stopped when he saw them sprawled on the floor against the wall. “What did I miss?”

 

.o0o.

 

   Sam was done with this. He was dangerous, too dangerous. The thing that had wormed its way inside him couldn’t be controlled, but the others were _still_ stubbornly refusing to look facts in the face and accept that they now had no other choice. He had nearly killed Cas because of a dropped mug, for god’s sake! Before the shock of Gabriel throwing himself between them had snapped him out of it, he had been hell bent on destruction, and he knew that he would have killed Cas without a second thought. Cas, his best friend.

 

   He understood where they were coming from, of course; after all, if it was Dean being slowly eaten from the inside, he had no doubts that he would have stopped at nothing to get him back even while the world burnt. But Sam had no intention of letting the world burn because of him, and that just meant that he would have to do what needed to be done on his own.

 

   He tried to look at it in a detached, practical manner; if he stayed, he would hurt them, and if his earlier loss of control was anything to go by, it would be sooner rather than later. Therefore, he had to go.

 

   That didn’t mean that it was easy. He had never wanted to go less.

 

   He had pretended to keep researching with the others for the rest of the afternoon, ignoring the worried looks they cast at him. He already had all the information he needed, now all he required was some time alone in the dungeon, which he figured would be the best place to open the portal, being well protected and far from any of the bunkers’ inhabited rooms.

 

   Finding the best time to do it wouldn’t be easy. He didn’t want to have to knock any of them out, but he realised with exasperation that he was going to have to. Cas didn’t sleep, and using banishing sigils was no longer really an option when he would banish himself as well. They were all too on edge and Dean was too watchful to fall for any of the usual tricks to get them out of the bunker, and Sam had to do this soon, while there was still time. He could feel it now, tendrils of cold growing through him like a fungus. It was growing larger all the time.

 

   He waited until Dean had gone to bed, eyeing Sam suspiciously as he went. Gabriel had stayed up with him to research, claiming that he wasn’t tired, but Sam had realised that they had wordlessly organised a watch schedule between themselves, and if he hadn’t been planning his own demise that night he would have smiled. He had acquired yet another overprotective caretaker. Gabriel and Dean would be terrifying together.

 

   He waited quietly in the library, anticipation and dread buzzing under his skin as he listened to the whisper of pages turning and the murmur of Dean’s thoughts slowly dying into sleep. Cas was deep in the archives, although Sam periodically felt his presence checking in to make sure that Sam couldn’t carry out what he was planning anyway. So Gabriel was alone with him in the library, squinting closely at the pages in the warm light of the lamps. Sam watched him, noting absently that Gabriel maybe needed reading glasses, his throat clenching when he realised that he would never see him wearing them.

 

   After a while Gabriel stopped turning the pages, his face slowly nodding closer and closer to the paper, and Sam had to supress a smile. Gabriel still hadn’t managed to maintain a proper sleep schedule even though it had been months since he had been brought back, probably partly due to their hunting and sleeping on the go all the time. Had it really only been a few months? It felt like much longer, but at the same time, it was no time at all. Sam’s entire universe had spun on its head since then. He just wished it could go on spinning for a little longer.

 

   Soon enough, Gabriel’s forehead hit the book, his body slumped over the desk and his breathing soft and even. Sam closed his own book and sat back, giving himself a moment to get it together. He tried to control his breathing where it was starting to become fast and shallow, dread slipping into his veins like ice along with the Darkness that infected him. This was the second time that he had done something along these lines, and it wasn’t any easier than the first time. In fact it might be harder, given that he now had a vague idea of what would happen to him in the Empty. This time, there would be no coming back.

 

   He rose quietly from the table, careful not to scrape the chair legs against the floor, and picked his way through the piles of books towards the door. He reached the entrance, then hesitated, self-control wavering.

 

   Quickly, he stepped back towards the table where Gabriel was sleeping and brushed a kiss to the top of his head, light as a feather. He hoped that they could forgive him, some day. There couldn’t be goodbyes, not really, so he would have to make do with this. He drew in a shaky breath against his hair, human warmth and sweat and the shampoo from the last motel in his nostrils. Gabriel’s soul swirled slowly beneath the skin, movement stirring warm and thick as syrup as it sensed him close and reached lazily up towards him.

 

   Sam straightened abruptly, then walked out before he could change his mind.

 

.o0o.

 

   He got all the way to the basement before he sensed Cas realising that something was wrong. He had hidden most of his Grace but had left enough of a trail that Cas could follow it. He hoped that Cas would fall for that; he needed to seem like he was trying to contact Death, which was exactly what he was doing, but he needed Cas to think that he could head him off single handed, without bothering to wake Dean and Gabriel up. So he had to seem like he was panicking, slipping up and indecisive. Which he was, but he was also determined to go through with this.

 

   He felt Cas hurrying towards him and quickly got out the summoning bowl and the spray paint. He had finished the symbols before Cas had even reached the stairs to the archives, and as he felt him walking towards the door Sam placed one of Dean’s favourite doughnuts in the centre of the summoning circle. There. All ready. He went to stand behind the door and shielded himself completely.

 

   Cas stepped through, looking around at the apparently empty room, confused. “Sam?”

 

   Sam quickly stepped in close behind him, slapping a palm on the back of Cas’ head and reaching through to smother his mind and Grace with his own, pressing down its struggles and sending a stream of regret and _I’m so sorry, God, I’m sorry Cas_. Cas wavered where he stood, and Sam caught his vessel as he slumped, laying him gently at the side of the room.

 

   Out of the corner of his senses, he caught movement and cursed. Gabriel had somehow woken and was moving towards Dean’s room. It would be better for all of them if he was gone before they got here. Quickly, he turned back to the materials and dropped a match into the summoning bowl, cringing back as the mixture of his own blood and holy oil caught fire. He held his breath, still facing away from the circle, and waited for the sound of something arriving.

 

   “Hmm. Not my favourite doughnuts, but not bad either. Your brother has good taste.”

 

   Sam whipped around. Death’s arrival had been silent, which was unnerving in itself, but actually looking at him was like staring directly at the edge of a cliff; even though you knew you were far enough away from it to be safe, there was still a wary edge of danger, the possibility that you could fall in if you weren’t careful, or if your doughnuts weren’t up to standard. Death was already tucking in, powdered sugar on his slim hands and thin lips, but his dark eyes were fixed on Sam, pinning him in place like an insect on a board. He tilted his head, bird-like.

 

   “So you want me to open the empty for you.”

 

   “Yes,” Sam said quickly, not questioning how the being knew. Upstairs, he felt Gabriel’s panic growing as he roused Dean’s soul back to wakefulness. Sam was running out of time.

 

   Death wiped his fingers on his dark suit, leaving no white powder trail behind, and nodded. “Then I believe that I owe you my gratitude, Sam Winchester. We all do. This is not what I would have chosen for your soul, however fate is rarely ever kind. I will do this for you, on the condition that you promise that you will carry out the act that you are planning on. The Darkness must not be allowed to enter this realm.”

 

   Sam nodded, his tongue too thick in his mouth with nerves to reply, and Death turned, hand raised towards the centre of the room. The air began to resonate, a deep, forbidding tone that shook the foundations under them. Slowly, too slowly, the air vibrated harder, and harder, rippling until in the centre a point of darkness appeared. It wasn’t the darkness of night-time, or the darkness of sewers and underground caves. This darkness was much older than that. It howled, hungry and endless, and terror prickled up Sam’s spine at the unnatural hole in the skin of the universe before him. He felt his wings flare involuntarily on the other plane, but he stayed where he was; he couldn’t stop now.

 

   The point of dark rippled out and grew and grew until it was a gaping doorway in the middle of the room, a portal to a horrifying unknown. Sam stepped forwards, even though his whole being was trying to force him back.

 

   The door behind him burst open, and for a second Gabriel was framed by the light from the corridor, the horror clear on his face as he took in the scene in front of him. Over the sound of the wind Sam heard his name being shouted, screamed, Gabriel and Dean calling to him as he staggered forwards, buffered by the gusts from the portal. Sam had to do it now, before they got any closer and tried to drag him back. He glanced sideways and saw Death’s solemn nod, and nodded in return. This had to happen.

 

   Sam turned and stepped back, towards the darkness, looking back at Gabriel and his brother one last time. He caught Gabriel’s horrified eyes, wide and gold just like they had been years ago when he had glanced at them as they ran out of the ballroom at the Elysian Fields hotel, and carefully mouthed _sorry_ to him. Sorry that he couldn’t stay. Sorry that it was ending this way, without proper goodbyes.

 

   He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let himself fall backwards into the hole behind him. The darkness reached out with sucking wind like great clawed fingers and yanked him in, pulled the breath from his lungs and tore into his Grace and soul and the Darkness embedded in it.

 

   If he could, he would have screamed.

 

 

 


	14. The Five Stages of Winchester Grief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about that last cliffhanger. Or not. Muahahaha!
> 
>  
> 
> .

   Gone.

 

   Sam was gone.

 

   Gabriel wasn’t aware of Dean shouting, or Cas talking to him. He couldn’t feel the cold grate of the concrete under his knees. All that was in his mind was the awful torn expression that Sam had worn just before he pitched backwards into the sucking vortex, the way he had mouthed the word ‘sorry’ just before he had vanished from sight. He imagined that he must have worn that expression just before he jumped into the cage as well.

 

   And now he was gone.

 

   Gabriel had never really coped with grief before. Had never really had to. As an angel he had been able to block it out, distance himself from it, stop the emotions in their tracks. So when Lucifer and his brothers had begun to fight among themselves, he had been horrified, then anguished, but then he had turned his heart to stone and left them to it. Now though there was nothing to do but face it, trapped as he was by his vessel, and the weight of the grief nearly dragged him down. If only he had arrived sooner, had done more to help Sam control his Grace, recognised the darkness before it was too late. If only he had never survived Lucifer’s attack, this would never have happened. It was his fault, his Grace that had awoken the darkness, and now Sam was gone. Because of him.

 

   Eventually, with a great effort, he managed to drag his eyes into focus. Cas was leaning over him, shaking him gently, and the corners of his eyes crinkled with relief as he looked up.

 

   “Ah, Gabriel. There you are.”

 

   Gabriel swallowed thickly, then reached up to rub his face, surprised when he felt the wetness on his cheeks. “Where’s Dean?” he croaked. He hadn’t noticed Dean leaving, only that the shouting had stopped, but now that he had the empty silence seemed to expand and rise around him, thick and choking.

 

   “Dean is… Not doing so well right now. But he is a little better than earlier.” The tightness in Cas’ voice suggested that his little bro was finally starting to get the hang of self-deception. If Gabriel knew anything about the Winchesters at all, Dean would be driving to the nearest crossroads as soon as the shock wore off.   

 

   “We should find him,” Gabriel grunted, heaving himself to his feet and stumbling into Cas as the blood flowed back into his legs. He took a deep breath and pushed back the grief, shoved it down until the screaming was only faint, until the hollowness where his heart should be was dimmed under the mask of responsibility. He had been an archangel, he had to give orders, protect what was left…

 

   “When did Death leave?”

 

   Castiel seemed to sense a shift in him and stood more upright, a soldier reporting to his commanding officer. “Death left right after he closed the portal. We should check on Dean, he will probably try to go to a crossroads to bargain for his brother soon.”

 

   Ah, so Cas knew about Dean’s suicidal recklessness too. Well, it didn’t exactly take a genius to work out what was going to happen. It wasn’t even the first time after all.

 

   They caught Dean just as he was getting into the impala. Gabriel stood back and let Castiel wrestle him. There was nothing he could do against Dean at the moment other than get in the way and be punched, so he watched silently as Dean yelled and raged at Cas to let him _go_ , but Cas just wrapped his arms around him from behind and waited.

 

   When Dean finally stopped struggling and his shouts turned into hitched breathing and muffled sobs, Cas let go of his twitching shoulders and turned him, pulling him back into his arms.

 

   Gabriel couldn’t bear to watch after that. He turned away from the display of comfort, walking back into the bunker, his footsteps echoing from the walls as he paced slowly into the war room and slumped onto the table. It all still seemed unreal, like it had been a bad dream and any minute now he would wake up and Sam would be there, complaining about the drool on his shirt. Had the halls been so hollow, so cold when Sam was there? Gabriel remembered the rooms being warm and homely, but that warmth seemed to have vanished along with Sam. He felt… empty. Like someone had taken a melon baller and scooped out his insides. His mind was utterly silent, more than when he had cut himself off from the Host, more than when he had woken as a human. This silence _screamed_.

 

   He wasn’t sure how long he stayed like that, but it was long enough for him to fall into a twitchy sleep, his head pillowed on his arms, still surrounded by the books that had been no help at all in the end. When Castiel shook him gently again, he barely woke for long enough to stagger down the hallway into his room, falling onto his bed without taking his clothes off and drowning himself in exhausted sleep.

 

.o0o.

 

   When he woke, for one cruel moment, Gabriel didn’t remember what had happened the day before.

 

   Then reality came crashing back and winded him. He lay still on the bed for long minutes, cold and hollow. The temptation to just stay there and give up was strong, but eventually the need to relieve the pressing of his bladder was stronger. It was time to face the world.

 

   By the time he got to the kitchen, Cas and Dean were already there, thankfully not engaging in their usual amorous activities. Gabriel didn’t think that he could deal with that this morning.

 

   There were deep bags under Dean’s eyes, which had the slightly manic look of someone operating on not enough sleep and too much caffeine, but there was a fresh hickie on his neck that suggested that he and Cas had been engaging in some good old fashioned physical comfort. Gabriel poured himself a mug of coffee and turned, leaning on the counter. He was amazed that Dean was even up this morning and not still sleeping off the vast quantities of alcohol that he had expected him to drink. Maybe Cas had gotten rid of all the alcohol in the bunker or something, because otherwise Gabriel would have bet his jacket that Dean would be drunk right then.

 

   “So, what now?”

 

   There was silence for a second, only emphasising the greater, deeper silence of the space where Sam had been, the space where he should still be, living and breathing and laughing-

 

   Gabriel wrenched himself out of the memory of Sam’s dimples and back to the bedraggled men in front of him.

 

   “We should find a hunt.” Castiel spoke up unexpectedly. Gabriel was about to argue that they were in no fit state to be wielding sharp blades and death machines, when he saw Cas’ gaze flicker to Dean’s fingers drumming against the sideboard. Ah. Cas thought that maybe if they could prolong dealing with this, if they could divert their energies into lopping off the heads of some vampires or frying some ghosts extra crispy, then maybe Dean would calm down enough not to go running into the arms of the nearest crossroads demon.

 

   He and Cas both knew, of course, that Sam was gone, permanently. There was no coming back from the empty, no way to find anything to retrieve once it fell into unbeing. Dean probably knew it too, but reason wasn’t penetrating his thick skull for the minute.

 

   Gabriel knew that going hunting was probably a terrible idea. Things like grief didn’t just go away if you ignored them for long enough, they would always come back to bite you in the ass sooner or later, and bringing this much baggage into a hunt could get one of them killed. But, to be honest, actively killing things seemed like not a bad idea compared to sitting around and stewing in their own emotions. It was what they were all best at, after all; running away. They didn’t even have a body to mourn, to keep them here.

 

   So Gabriel agreed. It seemed to work, for the most part. Dean pitched himself into finding a case, his hollow eyes scanning over the words on the screen and cursing the lack of supernatural activity. He didn’t stop for lunch, and it was evening before exhaustion took him and Cas peeled his face from the keyboard, swinging him into his arms. Gabriel trotted down the corridor at his side, thinking of the ribbing he would have given Dean once for being bridal carried, but he couldn’t find it in him to do much plotting.

 

   “We should be careful if we find a hunt. Probably not a good idea to let him near the firearms at the moment,” he muttered to Cas under his breath.

 

   “A worse idea not to,” Castiel murmured back, laying Dean out on the bed and removing his shoes before pulling the covers over him.

 

.o0o.

 

   During the day he had been too agitated and busy with preparing for the hunt to notice, but now that he was lying in bed the cold began to creep back in. Without Sam there, the Grace withdrawal was back. Gabriel locked his jaw and climbed awkwardly out, pulling on one of the grey robes that he had found at the back of his wardrobe and a pair of Sam’s stupid fuzzy socks.

 

   He wandered through to the den, knees knocking slightly as he hesitated. It didn’t look as though there was anyone there at first glance. Then he spotted Cas, sitting so still in one of the armchairs that it looked as though he was dead. His head was hanging low on his chest, eyes closed and brow furrowed, and Gabriel realised immediately what was happening; Cas was singing. He might not be able to hear it any more, but human intuition could still perceive the grief pouring off Castiel as he mourned his friend.

 

   Gabriel didn’t want to interrupt, but his teeth started chattering and Cas’ blue eyes flew open and fixed on him across the room, dropping back fully into his vessel.

 

   “Gabriel,” he said softly. Gabriel stepped closer.

 

   “I still think I can feel him sometimes,” Castiel spoke again, “It’s almost as if his soul is still here. I miss it.”

 

   “We all do.” Gabriel replied, resting his numb fingers on Cas’ shoulder, feeling the warmth leak into them.

 

   “You are cold,” Cas said abruptly, “Come here. My Grace is not as powerful as yours was, but it should treat the worst of the symptoms.”

 

   “Reduced to snuggling with my baby brother,” Gabriel muttered under his breath as he squashed himself against Cas’ side.

 

   “We were never babies,” Cas commented mildly, then went quiet with a confused frown. Gabriel rolled his eyes.

 

   Cas continued to side-eye him for a minute as Gabriel started to warm up slowly. Finally he sat back and stared at him openly, and Gabriel shifted, uncomfortable.

 

   “What?” He demanded testily. “What’s with the expression? Did I forget to wash again or something? Have I got food on my face? ‘Cos it has been a really, _really_ long day, brother, and I would love to get some sleep without you staring holes in my-”

 

   “You look like Sam.” Castiel interrupted. Gabriel stared at him.

 

   “Pretty sure I don’t,” he said slowly.

 

   “No, your soul,” Cas said, looking at him head on now with laser like intensity. “Your soul looks like Sam’s. I thought before that it was just because he held you for so long before you got a body, but it’s more than that, it’s…”

 

   Cas squinted at him, eyes narrowed, roving all over him and locking on his chest. “You didn’t bond with him, did you?”

 

   Gabriel yelped, “No! At least… not like that. We were kind of connected, but we sort of expected that, what with him having my Grace. But we never did that.” Not that Gabriel would have objected.

 

   “Then what is that?” Castiel jabbed a finger towards the centre of his chest, right over the raised handprint. He raised an eyebrow when Gabriel rubbed at it self-consciously through his shirt.

 

   “Sam gave it to me when he put me in this body. I don’t think the kid even knew he did it until later. We figured it was just X marks the spot for where the soul went in, you know?”

 

   Cas stared at him disbelievingly for a minute. “Gabriel, as my elder brother and one of the oldest beings in the universe, you can be unbelievably stupid at times.”

 

   “Hey! That’s rich for someone who took seven years to ask a human on a date!”

 

   Castiel ignored him and leaned in uncomfortably closer, his eyes barely slits, until his nose was almost touching Gabriel’s chest. He wriggled a little under the scrutiny. “Ummm…”

 

   Then Cas’ eyes went wide and he drew back sharply, shock flickering across his expression, then wonder and excitement, and he gripped Gabriel’s forearm hard.

 

   “Cas? Cas, what is it? What can you see?”

 

   Castiel jumped up, yanked him off the couch and nearly ran out of the den towards the bedrooms, still towing Gabriel behind and ignoring his protests and demands. “Come on! We have to wake Dean!”

 

   Dean was predictably grumpy at being woken at one in the morning, but Cas looked like a kid at Christmas and Dean was still too tired to protest much as he dragged them both towards the dungeon still in their robes. When they got there though, Dean lost patience and yanked his arm out of Cas’ grip.

 

   “Cas! What the hell is going on?” He barked as Castiel rushed around the room, pulling a metal bowl and herbs from one of the benches.

 

   “We can get your brother back!” Cas said over his shoulder as he started throwing herbs into the bowl.

 

   Dean stopped short as though he had been punched in the chest. Gabriel felt the same way.

 

   “How?” Dean demanded, his eyes going hard and business-like in a second.

 

   “Don’t you dare Castiel,” Gabriel growled. “Don’t you dare give us false hope. Nothing comes back from the empty, nothing!”

 

   “No, Gabriel, I wouldn’t tell you if I wasn’t sure. You have a piece of Sam’s soul.” Cas said, then smiled at their shell-shocked expressions. “What? You thought that handprint was a normal mark? I’m not sure how it happened, whether you were damaged and he patched you up with a piece of himself on instinct or if he just gave it to you by accident. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that that mark on your chest isn’t a scar, it’s a manifestation of Sam’s effect on your soul. The problem with removing things from the Empty has always been that it was impossible to find them. But when souls are broken apart they always have a link to the other pieces, so now that we have that-”

 

   “We can get him back!” Gabriel laughed, “We can reel him back in!”

 

   Dean was looking from his shoulder to Cas. “Wait, does that mean…”

 

   “Later,” Gabriel interrupted, already running over to help Cas assemble what they would need to summon a high ranking reaper. “Come on, we have to hurry; the more time we take, the less of him there’ll be left to bring back.”

 

.o0o.

 

   Five minutes later, Dean lit the summoning bowl with trembling hands. There was a flash of magnesium, and when he and Dean took their hands away from their eyes (Cas just stared straight into the light) there was a young woman in the circle, her hands on her hips and an unimpressed expression on her face.

 

   “Winchesters. You know, when the boss said that he’d been dealing with you again, I told him, I said, ‘it won’t even be twenty four hours till you’re there again pulling the portal back open’. Don’t tell me, a suicide mission into the unknown. Or do you want me to bring him back? Because if that’s what you were thinking you are shit out of luck, because I can’t do it. So you’re just going to have to deal with your zombie apocalypse or whatever by yourselv-”

 

   “Billie, we’re not here for that,” Gabriel interrupted her tirade, stepping forwards and trying to contain his impatience, “Although we do want you to open the portal for us. That’s all, though. No resurrecting necessary.”

 

   Her mouth snapped shut and her eyes narrowed, as though she suspected them of having a long list of terms and conditions with their request. Finally she said, “Fine. But we’d better not hear from you again. You people are responsible for half my workload.”

 

   With a dirty look she gestured behind herself before she vanished and the howling black vortex appeared once more.

 

   “What now?” Dean shouted over the wind. Cas turned to Gabriel, his hair whipping up around his head like a dark halo.

 

   “I will need to activate the soul fragment using energy from my Grace.” The explanation was more for Dean’s benefit. Gabriel had known how this was going to pan out as soon as Castiel had announced his plan. He quickly shrugged out of his shirt and stood straight, bracing himself as Cas placed his palm over his sternum, the fingers pressing onto the handprint.

 

   Gabriel felt a tug, and then a flood of heat. He gasped and opened his eyes, realising that he had closed them, and saw the room lit with a ruddy glow. He looked down. The light was coming from his chest, right where Cas’ hand was touching his flesh, as close as you could get to seeing a soul in a vessel with human eyes. It didn’t hurt, but there was a hollow rushing sensation as his soul acted as the conduit for Sam’s.

 

   Very, very faintly, he felt a tug on the other end of the line.

 

   “He’s there! I can feel him! Keep going!” He yelled to Cas, his relief reflected in Dean’s face.

 

   But to his dismay the river of energy inside him lessened, the flow slowing.

 

   “No! What are you doing?!” There was sweat beading on Cas’ brow and he was shaking with the effort. He started to tremble and Dean rushed to prop him up.

 

   “He can’t keep this up on his own, he’s running low!” Dean bellowed. Gabriel grasped Cas’ arm, the one that wasn’t on his sternum, and pressed it to his stomach.

 

   “Take it from me! Use my soul!”

 

   Cas, despite his exhausted state, froze and frowned unwillingly. Gabriel felt the tugging on the other end of the mental line begin to weaken.

 

   “Just do it!”

 

   Castiel seemed to make up his mind. He pushed Dean away from himself and towards Gabriel, straightening. “Go. Hold him up.”

 

   He felt Dean come around behind him, strong hands under his arms propping him up, body solid against his back. Castiel raised an eyebrow at him, asking him if he was ready. He took a deep breath, and nodded.

 

   Castiel pressed forwards, and the glow was suddenly an invading burn, pushing through his stomach up and up, forcing the air out of his lungs. His screams were snatched from his lips by the churning air, and he felt his body convulse. Dean’s grip bit down on his arms, but the pinch was lost in the overwhelming agony in his chest. His insides were liquid, molten, and as the pain built he forgot about the whys or the where’s, he just wanted it to _stop, please make it stop-_

 

   He started to drift, the pain becoming indistinct, and he began to panic. No, he couldn’t go yet, there was still something he had to do, something…

 

   Just before he lost himself he felt, in the far distance, a tug on the line. He grabbed desperately for it, reeling it in, using it to anchor himself back into his body.

 

   The glow came closer, and closer, until the warm amber closed around him like coming home and he clutched at it through the pain. Through it he felt a dim sense of relief; they had done it. The warmth was back. Sam was back.

 

   As quickly as it had started, the agony faded, and he was too exhausted to hold on any longer.

 

   He let go, and he was gone.

 

 


	15. A Two-Egg Omlette

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I have an excuse for writing a cliffhanger and then abandoning this for three months?  
> Well... not really. My muse packed a bag and left for her summer holidays. I'm sorry.  
> But now she's back! Just in time for me to get this wrapped up. One more to go!
> 
>  
> 
> .

   Sam came back to semi-consciousness in painful increments.

 

   Or was he dreaming? Hallucinating while the last pieces of his soul were ripped apart? It was hard to tell.

 

   There was noise and light ( _too bright, too loud, agony_ ) (better than the dark).

 

   There was the dark ( _no, no, the Darkness was screaming as its tendrils were ripped right from the heart of him and flung away by the hurricane, he was himself again but that was no comfort because he was screaming too, the wind of the Empty tearing like knives at his Grace and soul-_ )

 

   There was the impression of touch and the light returned, not as blinding this time. Sound buffered gently against his ears, distant and indistinct like looking through a fogged lens. Were his eyes open? He couldn’t tell. He was still so cold, cold as ice on the inside.

 

   Then there was warmth all around him, golden warmth, and when he sank again the darkness wasn’t tearing at him, and he slept.

 

.o0o.

 

   Sam woke gently, which was unusual. He hung there in the space between wakefulness and sleep, dozing. Eventually thoughts began to drift in, slowly flickering into focus. It had been a while since he had been this warm. In fact, he might not have been this warm ever. Had he fallen asleep next to a heater?

 

   Then memories started coming back, yanking him unpleasantly out of his comfortable snooze; the Empty, the portal, Gabriel’s eyes burning into his as he pitched backwards-

 

   He opened his eyes groggily, taking in the soft circle of light that his lamp threw onto his bedroom ceiling. This couldn’t be right. How was he here? How was he alive? _Was_ he alive?

 

   Feeling warmth pressed along his side, he looked down in confusion at the ruffled head of light brown hair that was using his bicep as a pillow, then promptly groaned as all the muscles in his neck locked up. He huffed and lay back, breathing deeply and trying to relax. The more he lay still, the more he felt every muscle in his body aching. It was almost worse than when he had been completing the trials. For some reason his vision was weird, the colours all muted and two dimensional.

 

   He frowned and discovered that even the tiny muscles in his forehead hurt. Nothing made sense. He was supposed to be dead. So why was he lying in bed with Gabriel, as though nothing had happened? It couldn’t have been a bad dream, the memories were too vivid, too real. Maybe he was hallucinating as the last of his soul was ripped apart.

 

   Something was missing, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Shit, he was aching from the inside out-

 

   Wait! The Grace! It was gone, that’s why everything looked wrong! Where was it? He couldn’t feel it, where was-

 

   He reached out like a blind man, feeling around, and felt the Grace brush against his soul gently. There it was! He tried to grab for it, tugging at it to pull it within reach, but it resisted, drawing back out of his grasp-

 

   Gabriel stirred, muttering “Geroff, Luci, five more minutes…” and then apparently falling back asleep. Sam gave up, letting the Grace go reluctantly, but instead of drawing away it curled back around him like a content cat.

 

   He lay there for a few minutes, trying to muster the will to move, his brain still spinning to find an explanation for how he was still alive, but then there was the sound of heavy footfalls coming down the corridor. Dean stuck his head around the door, and as soon as he saw that Sam was awake his face lit up with relief, his tired eyes brightening.

 

   Sam grinned, relieved to see him. This was real; he could tell, because out of all the hallucinations he had been subject to over the years, none of them had managed to get Dean quite right. There was always something that felt _off_ about him if it was a hallucination, something in the way he moved or behind his eyes that never felt quite right, and Sam felt a great swell of relief when he looked at his brother and knew that it was really him.

 

   “Sam!”

 

   Dean rushed across the room to the bed. The fact that Gabriel was wrapped around Sam like a snuggly burr prevented Dean from sweeping him up in a hug, so instead he clasped him firmly on the shoulder as though he didn’t plan on letting go ever again. Dean scrutinised his face for a few seconds, making sure that he was alright, then let out a shaky sigh. His fingers dug in almost painfully before releasing.

 

   “Never do that again. Thought I’d lost you.”

 

   “Not planning on it.” Shit, his voice sounded as though he had been gargling with razor blades. “How am I back? I thought going into the Empty was a one way trip.” He squinted, not used to seeing Dean without looking at his soul any more. It was strange to only see bodies again without the Grace. Like going from viewing life in IMAX 3D to black and white television.

 

   “Well, we should probably wait to tell that one for mister comatose to wake up.” Gabriel gave a loud snore as though to confirm that he was still asleep, then began to drool lightly on Sam’s arm. Dean sniggered.

 

   “Nice choice, Sammy. He’s so elegant and refined.”

 

   Gabriel, as though he sensed that he was being insulted, chose that moment to stir, blearily wiping his mouth on the sleeve of Sam’s shirt before looking up. He startled, his eyes going round.

 

   “Sam! You’re up! Thank fuck, we were starting to worry, you’ve been out for days.”

 

   Dean snorted, high on relief. “What would you know about it? You were out most of that time as well, you only woke up this morning!”

 

   Sam yelped as Gabriel punched him in the shoulder, hard. “Never do that again, you asshole,” Gabriel’s tone was angry, but his voice shook a little. Sam looked down into his burning eyes, glowing fiercely amber up at him.

 

   “Not planning on it, don’t worry. I’m so sorry”

 

   Gabriel sniffed and wiped his suspiciously damp cheeks on Sam’s shoulder. “You’d better be.”

 

   “Sorry,” Sam muttered again against Gabriel’s hair. Gabriel gripped him tighter.

 

   Sam turned back to Dean, who was looking away discreetly. “What happened?”

 

   Dean stopped pretending to be fascinated by the wall. “Well, you would have been screwed if you hadn’t decided to leave Gabe a calling card when you put his soul back in. Apparently a chunk of your soul was enough to track you through the Empty, and after that all we had to do was open the portal again and yank you through. Your body kind of… reassembled itself once Cas had enough energy to pull you out, which looked nasty as fuck, by the way.” Dean sighed dramatically. “So there I was, standing in the dungeon, trying to juggle two unconscious semi-archangels and a seriously wobbly seraph on one hand while avoiding the hole to the Pit Of Doom on the other-”

 

   “The portal’s still open?” Sam felt a burst of alarm, but Dean waved him away.

 

   “Closed up in ten minutes. Anyway, Cas was feeling better by that point, and you two were unconscious but you were doing okay, so we-”

 

   “So then he and Cassie had an enormous round of ‘thank fuck we’re alive’ sex!” Gabriel interrupted gleefully.

 

   “Will you shut up and let me finish?” Dean said irritably, but his face flushed a shade of red usually reserved for stop signs, so Sam decided it was just as well that he had been unconscious. Gabriel started to distract him by absently tracing the runes onto his chest with one finger, still staring into his face as though memorising it. Sam couldn’t help staring back. He was alive, he thought with dazed disbelief. They had more time.

 

   Dean was still talking. “Cas was feeling a bit better by then, so we managed to get both of you into beds. Only then you were both shivering like it was the arctic, no matter how much we turned up the central heating. Cas reckoned it was the Grace withdrawal again or whatever, so that’s why there’s a gremlin in your bed.”

 

   Gabriel grinned up at Sam impishly, apparently not insulted in the least by being called a gremlin, and rolled over to sit up. He stretched with his arms over his head and yawned widely, then collapsed back down next to Sam, wriggling to get comfortable. Dean shifted and grimaced at him as though to say _no molesting my baby brother while I’m in the room_ , but Gabriel just leered at him and wrapped himself around Sam like an octopus. Sam ignored both of them.

 

   “I can’t believe it,” he said, a little dazed, “I’m still alive. I’m gonna live!”

 

   “Yup.” Gabriel smiled, propping his bony chin on Sam’s shoulder. Dean grinned at him.

 

   Sam absently reached for his Grace again, only to belatedly realise that it wasn’t there. He had a sudden sympathy for what Gabriel had been going through all these months. “But… um… I think there might be something wrong with the Grace. Gabriel, is it ever supposed to sort of… retreat? It’s never done this with me before. Maybe being in the Empty damaged it.”

 

   Gabriel’s face split into a wide grin, as though he had been waiting for Sam to ask that question and was thrilled to finally tell. “Well, Samwise, normally I’d say yeah, something is wrong. But fortunately for you,” Sam felt the Grace brush up against him again and gasped, “I happen to know that you’re fine.”

 

   “Gabriel? What the hell’s happening?”

 

   “Well, for starters, your soul was welded to my Grace by a bunch of suicidal witches. Then my soul got connected to yours, from where you manhandled me back into my body and we did the soul equivalent of exchanging numbers. So we were already stuck together pretty tight. And _then_ , Cas reached through that connection to drag you back to the land of the living by your ankles, using energy from my soul to do it, so it’s not really all that surprising that we got even more attached. Long story short, our souls are now bound up so tightly that I can access the Grace, and given that it was mine to begin with and it likes me, we’re sort of sharing it.”

 

   “Hold up, you never told me and Cas any of this stuff!” Dean pouted at Gabriel.

 

   “Yeah, well, you never asked did ya? Plus, Cassie’s probably still sleeping it off. He looked really drained earlier, or he’d be in here already.”

 

   Sure enough, Sam closed his eyes and reached out in the direction of the Grace again, and there was the dim golden illumination of Gabriel’s soul, visible even without access to the Grace. “So, wait… are you an archangel again? Am I an angel still? What kind of angels even are we anymore?”

 

   Gabriel made a tired sort of rude noise against his chest. “Who cares? It’s all just labels, anyway. You’re thinking too much. Nobody’s dying any more, and bonus, I can finally conjure candy again. You have no idea how much I’ve been missing it.” Just to prove he could, Gabriel snapped his fingers and Sam felt a tug in his chest. A small chocolate bar appeared in Gabriel’s hand, and he bit into it, smirking around the mouthful. “To put your mind at rest, you’re definitely some sort of angel still, ‘cos I can see your True Form even if you can’t access it at the moment, and the fact I can see the whole thing without my eyeballs boiling suggests I’m an angel too.”

 

   Sam’s mind was still buzzing, still trying to digest the new information. How did that even work? Gabriel must have been able to hear his thoughts because Sam felt a flash of mild irritation along their link and Gabriel grumbled an explanation.

 

   “Think of angelic creatures like eggs. If the bits of you that make you _you_ are the yolk, like your soul or whatever, then the whites are the Grace. We’re now a double yolker.”

 

   “So… we’re just sharing it? It’s not gonna reject me and go nuclear or anything?”

 

   Gabriel snorted. “Well we’re a little more connected than just sharing Grace. But no, there’s no way it’s gonna wipe out life on earth.”

 

   “Well that’s a relief,” Dean pitched in with a grin. “Just because you guys are an egg now, no need to make an omelette. Sammy’s been scrambled enough already.”

 

   “Wow, Deano. Be careful, you could cut something with that wit of yours.”

 

   “You know I’m punny Gabriel. You’re just jealous of my sense of humor.”

 

   While they were bickering, Sam felt the Grace brush up against him like a playful cat, blue-white and teasing, then dance back out of the way before he could catch it properly. Sam lunged forwards mentally, grabbing hold of the elusive presence, and felt a jolt run through Gabriel’s vessel as their souls lit up with connection through the Grace.

 

   It felt a little like touching Gabriel’s soul when he was human, and yet nothing like that at all. He was more vibrant now, and enormous, all fiery scarlet and gold and darting thoughts, with a deep resonance running through it all that spoke of age and dark currents running strong under the surface. Sam let it pour through him, like water through his fingers, but there, right in the middle there was a solid ball of energy. He looked closer. It was Gabriel’s soul, exactly the same as it had been when he was human, all closely coiled gold, and Sam felt a little relief.

 

   “Could you two stop? That is really freaking creepy.” Dean’s voice interrupted his concentration.

 

   San snapped back fully into his vessel so that he could pull a face. “We’re just connecting, Dean! Go tell your own boyfriend we’re still alive if you don’t wanna watch.”

 

   Then Sam froze subtly. He suddenly realised, what with all the havoc with the Darkness and the Empty, that he had never really told Dean about himself and Gabriel. The way that Gabriel was attached to his side was pretty obvious, but Dean’s powers of denial were second to none. And even if he did know, would he accept them? Gabriel hadn’t always been an ally, as much as Sam had forgiven him and the fact that they’d been getting along these past few months, and hypocrisy hadn’t always stopped Dean in the past when it came to disapproving of things that Sam was doing. If Dean had a problem with them being together, they weren’t going to stop, but it would definitely make for an awkward atmosphere in the bunker.

 

   But Dean just flipped him off half-heartedly and got up to leave.

 

   “Fine, I’m going, I’m going. I’ll tell Cas you’re both okay then. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, Sammy! Have fun _connecting_.” Dean managed to insert more innuendo into the last word than should have been possible. Sam relaxed.

 

   “Oh we will, Deano!” Gabriel called after him, equally lasciviously.

 

   Just when they thought he had left, Dean popped his head back around the doorframe, looking at Sam seriously this time. “Seriously, man. I’m so glad you’re okay.”

 

   “Thanks, Dean.” Sam smiled back at him, and Dean swung the door closed with a parting glance, as though he was reluctant to let Sam out of his sight. He was always like that after they had had a near death experience.

 

   Once the door clicked shut, Gabriel turned to him and grinned. “So, Sammy, now that big brother’s out the way, why don’t you take a peek? Go on, I can feel your curiosity from here.”

 

   And Gabriel was right. Sam had been dying to prod at the connection that had opened wide between them since he had woken, and now that he had been given an invitation the temptation was impossible to resist. Sam bit his lip, looking down at where Gabriel’s eyes were shining with challenge. He thought that he could feel it in his mind too, an echo of playful demand, so he closed his eyes and loosened his grip on his vessel ever so slightly. Tentatively, he reached out into the empty space around him. There was the bond, bright and shining compared to the void that it was resting in. That was where the emotions were coming from, and the rich golden glow of Gabriel’s soul on the other end, but there was the Grace there too running through it, that familiar electric blue zing.

 

   Confident now, Sam grinned and tugged the Grace towards himself. The familiar slew of colours washed over his vision as the warm energy poured down the link into him, his sight sharpening as he squinted at the intensity. Across the bunker, Dean’s joy and relief were beaming out from him in ripples, but the deep hum of Gabriel’s contentedness from next to him blocked out nearly everything else. Sam smiled as he felt the familiar current run through him, closing his eyes to let the sensations wash over him as he opened up to his True Form.

 

   With everything that had happened in the last week or so, Sam didn’t feel the same trepidation about losing himself to his other form that he had before. He realised suddenly that the anxiety might have been a seed of the Darkness, his soul trying to distance itself from the polluting thing attached to his Grace by instinct, because that fear was completely gone. He felt more in tune with his new body, more a part of it. He stretched out his cramped limbs, feeling his body feathers fluff out and his wings tremble before he folded them back neatly. This was him now, his arms and wings. He wasn’t going to lose control. Plus, if he went too far, he knew now that Gabriel could drag him back.

 

   At the sound of Gabriel’s chuckles he turned and looked around, then all his eyes widened, his mouths gaping open and wings spreading as he stared up at Gabriel in shock.

 

   He had known that Gabriel’s true form had been larger than his was, just from glimpses that he had caught in Cas’ memories. But knowing that and seeing Gabriel towering over of him were two very different things.

 

   Gabriel’s other form was too huge, too _vast_ to take in, even through angelic eyes. He was a crouched mountain of shimmering bronze feather-scales, laughing golden eyes peering down from a multitude of heads, each one illuminated by its own halo. The great wings were arched overhead, the feathers shimmering like beaten copper, glistening with ultraviolet rainbows as they flexed and shifted. Sam felt tiny in their shadow, small and dull and dark compared to Gabriel’s brilliance, but Gabriel just hummed deep enough to shake the earth, amusement and careful tenderness seeping through their link, and reached out cautiously to card the very tips of his great long claws through Sam’s feathers.

 

   For a few seconds, Sam let his eyes play over Gabriel’s immense form, but then it was too much, far too much. He dropped abruptly back into his vessel with a gasp, opening his eyes on the bed to find Gabriel’s bright eyes sparkling with amusement inches from his face, the feeling of fingers sifting through his hair matching the grooming in their other forms.

 

   “Gabriel,” he breathed. “You’re fucking beautiful.”

 

   Gabriel grinned. “I know, right?” Even with human ears his voice was different, a choir of melodies and harmonies.

 

   “I’m serious, damn it.” _What the hell are you doing here with me?_ He wanted to ask. _How am I ever going to stand up next to you?_

 

   “Hey, cut that out,” Gabriel said sharply, prodding him through their connection and moving a hand to flick the end of his nose. “None of that. Do you know how amazing it is that you’re even alive right now, Winchester? How bright your soul is? I can finally see your True Form properly, so don’t you spoil this for me.”

 

   “I…” Sam opened his mouth,

 

   “No. I’m appreciating you, and you’re going to put up with it.”

 

   Sam felt nimble fingers start to sift through his feathers again out of sight and sighed out a breath, relaxing into the mattress and wrapping Gabriel more tightly in his corporeal arms. Gabriel chuckled and turned his face up, pressing unhurried kisses along Sam’s jaw before their lips met. Sam turned into the kiss, smiling into it.

 

   “Sam! You’re awake!” Cas called from the corridor, his footsteps getting closer.

 

   “Damn it, foiled again,” Gabriel muttered against his lips.

 

   Sam grinned as they pulled apart. “Later,” he promised, then threw his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up, pulling a grumbling Gabriel with him.


	16. At the End of the Tunnel

 

   Sam turned into the wind a little, spreading his primaries and trimming his alulas to hover. He adjusted his balance with a small shift of his tail and let his contentment rumble in his chest.

 

   It felt so good to stretch his wings, to lose some of the tension that had been simmering under his skin since they had been attacked by the demon. Longer than that, even. It had probably been years since he had relaxed properly, now he thought about it.

 

   He had flown before, obviously; to get to places or to reach things. But until now, he had never really flown for pleasure. Learning how to relax in this body was something he was still working on, but now that the instinctive panic was gone, flight was amazing. And after the hectic worry and pain of the past few days, it felt so good to let it all go and just _fly_.

 

   He rolled his shoulders and felt the air billow under his feathers, lifting him upwards. Lebanon spread out below him in a colourful patchwork as he hovered, invisible. He could see through the ceilings and walls to where the bright points of souls went about their business, unaware of him high above.

 

   Behind him he heard the concussive thump of enormous wingbeats, approaching fast, startling him out of his thoughts. He suppressed what passed as a smile in this form.

 

   There was a roar like a jet engine as Gabriel’s enormous bulk zoomed past him in a tumult of gold-bronze feathers before dropping back, looping around him playfully. Gabriel executed a perfect barrel roll, hovering beneath him to gaze up at him with a thousand eyes gleaming like medallions.

 

  _Having fun there, little sparrow?_

 

   Sam prodded him gently through the soul connection. _Show-off_ , he commented.

 

_Messenger of God, remember? I’m fast. Anyway, you should have known better than to sneak off, Mr Houdini. Deano almost had a coronary when he’d finished calling Jody and realised you were gone._

Sam sighed. _Sorry, I wasn’t trying to get away from you. And it’s not his fault. I just had to get out of there for a bit. I know Dean’s excited that we’re all okay. He’s just a bit…_

_Overbearing? Smothering? Cockblocking?_

   Sam snorted and swung his tail at him playfully. In response Gabriel grinned, showing off mouthfuls of pointed teeth as if to say _oh it is on_ , and reached up unexpectedly from below him. Sam yelped as nimble hands pinned his wings to his sides, then shrieked as Gabriel spun them so that he was upright and Sam was flying upside down.

 

 _Gabriel, what the hell! Put me dow-_ Sam had just enough time to see one of the eyes on Gabriel’s many heads wink at him before he was tucked against a bony feathered chest. Gabriel’s wings flared wide before folding stiff and close to his sides as his sinuous body bent itself into a stomach-churning stoop.

 

   They dived.

 

   Sam’s shriek was lost in Gabriel’s supersonic whoop of exhilaration as the ground approached at a terrifying speed, oh god they were going to crash, it was too fast-

 

   Gabriel’s wings angled themselves then snapped out just before they reached the earth, the muscles of his chest straining with the heavy beats as he pulled them out into a smooth glide.

 

   As soon as their flight was level Sam wriggled out of Gabriel’s grasp and made his way unsteadily to the ground, dropping back into his vessel and staggering as he forgot to cancel his momentum with his wings. A second later the woodland clearing that he had landed in was filled with the sound of back flapping as Gabriel alighted next to him with a distinct _pop_ , already roaring with laughter. Sam crossed his arms over his chest, frowning at him.

 

   “You’re an ass.”

 

   Gabriel ignored him. “You should have seen your faces! Oh, we are doing that again!”

 

   Sam flipped him off and started shakily walking over to join him. Gabriel’s broad wings were still spread behind him from flight and twitching in amusement to match the grin on his face, which was quickly growing into a Loki-esque smirk.

 

   Sam narrowed his eyes. Sure enough, just as he got close, a rock hidden in the lush grass caught his toe and he went down, arms windmilling, already braced for the jarring jolt of landing.

 

   But it never came. Sam opened his eyes then blinked at Gabriel’s face hovering over his. He was hovering, caught by invisible hands before he hit the ground. Gabriel raised a teasing eyebrow at him.

 

   “You didn’t honestly think I’d let you fall, did you?”

 

   Sam let a smile soften his mouth, then his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Did you just trip me just so you could make that comment?”

 

   “Maybe.” Gabriel waggled his eyebrows in a way that was probably meant to be mysterious. “But mostly I just wanted an excuse to do this!”

 

   Sam yelped when unnaturally strong arms slid under his body and hoisted him up, then started laughing as Gabriel walked blindly forwards. Sam was practically wrapped around his smaller vessel to make up for their height difference, and it should have been physically impossible for Gabriel to be carrying him so easily, but Gabriel made it look effortless.

 

   “Jesus, Sam, what have you been eating? Rocks? Lead weights? Small planets?”

 

   “Yeah, whatever, tease all you want, just don’t tell Dean about this or I’ll never live down the princess jokes.”

 

   “Oh, don’t you worry my fair maiden,” Gabriel reassured him as he sat down in the lushest patch of grass with Sam still in his lap, “Even if he finds out, I’ll make sure he never teases you. I have some amazing blackmail ammunition. He won’t say a thing.”

 

   “It must be good.”

 

   “It is. Look at that,” Gabriel tutted and moved a hand to the air behind Sam’s left shoulder. “I’ll never know how you manage to mess them up so fast.”

 

   Sam looked behind himself and grimaced. His wings were thoroughly ruffled from his flight and trying to escape Gabriel’s clutches, the feathers misaligned all over the place. “Yeah, well this time it’s your fault.”

 

   “Lie down Sammy, I’ll sort it out for you.”

 

   He prodded Sam off him until he was lying on his stomach. The loamy smell of the earth and crushed grass filled his nostrils, rich with growth and decomposition. A few stray blades of grass tickled against his belly.

 

   “I could do it myself, you know.”

 

   Gabriel perched himself on the small of his back. “It’ll be faster if I do it kiddo, I’ve got more arms.”

 

   “That phrase will never not be weird,” Sam muttered into the grass, propping his head on his arms. Long fingers that definitely didn’t belong to Gabriel’s vessel began to comb through his feathers. His wings shivered, relaxing and splaying out on the grass so that Gabriel could reach them better, and Sam sighed, his muscles melting. It was better than a massage, he thought muzzily as Gabriel slowly straightened the wayward feathers, delicately lifting the feather groups and laying them back down correctly so that they lay flat. A kind of golden haze descended as Gabriel finished with the flight feathers and began winnowing his fingers through the marginal coverts, the small feathers along the top, then gave a small tug to tell him to roll onto his back so that he could reach the undersides.

 

   Sam rolled over and looked up, his breath catching. Gabriel was crouched over him, the light behind him picking out individual strands of hair and making them gleam like spun gold. After a moment though Sam forgot all about his vessel, because his wings were spread high and wide above him, glimmering translucent in the saturated evening light. Even all folded up and squashed down tight as he was to fit into a vessel, it was an impressive display. Sam barely felt it as his own wings splayed themselves out across the grass, prostrate under him in response.

 

   Without thinking, Sam reached up, his fingers brushing against the tertials closest to Gabriel’s side. His eyes widened with a gasp and Sam pulled his fingers back, sure that he’d made a mistake, gone too far, but then the great golden wings above him curled and curved down over him until they were mantled into a tent of feathers, putting them within easy reach. Gabriel grinned down at him, challenge sparkling in his eyes.

 

   “Touch all you want, Samster.”

 

    Sam grinned at the invitation, reaching up to run his grip along the leading edge, feeling the solid bones of the wrists and the soft stretch of skin leading to his shoulders. Gently, he reached the joints where the wing bone met Gabriel’s back in a knot of muscles and worked his thumbs into them. Gabriel hissed on an intake of breath, his wings giving a long shudder as the muscles flexed against Sam’s grip. There was a slightly dazed look on his face, and Sam was suddenly reminded that Gabriel had been pretending to be a pagan god for at least a millennia before they had met him. Meaning that it had probably been at least that long since he had trusted this part of himself with anyone.

 

   He was yanked out of his awe-tinged thoughts when Gabriel’s arms gave out and he landed on Sam’s chest, driving the breath out of him with an _oof_!

 

   “Christ, you’re solid,” Sam wheezed. Gabriel just gave a dopey-sounding giggle and pressed their lips together.

 

   They stayed like that for some time, just kissing each other in the long grass, life humming around them and within them. But eventually their kisses began to get more heated, their hips starting to rock together. Sam hissed as one of Gabriel’s legs fell between his own and a bolt of warmth shot up his spine.

 

   Then Sam felt it, felt the hold of his vessel slipping, and not again! He breathed heavily, scrunching his eyes shut and drawing back a bit, determined to stay anchored in his body.

 

   Gabriel looked down at him curiously, then noticed his expression and grinned, obviously realising what was happening. Instead of drawing back though, Gabriel started kissing him harder, rocking against him urgently and Sam couldn’t resist retaliating until the rising heat shunted him out of his vessel.

 

   His other eyes blinked open, looking down at their vessels abandoned on the ground, and he sighed.

 

   _We have got to work on that._

 

   _You’re right, but what makes you think I don’t have you exactly where I want ya?_ Half of Gabriel’s eyes closed in a wink, and for a second Sam was confused.

 

   Then he felt something brush against him through the bond and gasped. It was even more intense than it had been while they were envesseled, like plunging his entire being into an electric socket. Instinctively he reached back, grasping for that pleasure, that intimacy. The air filled with a ringing note, layers and harmonies rising up. It was _Gabriel_ he was touching, their souls pressed together again, but this time it was so much _more_. They weren’t even in their true forms anymore as they coiled together, just streams of energy twining closer and closer, hotter and hotter and tighter until Sam reached out and touched the very core of Gabriel’s being-

 

   The world seemed to explode into one endless whiteout of sound and euphoria, rapture shuddering through both of them, rebounding across their link in a feedback loop that seemed to go on and on. They weren’t two creatures, they were one, their voice lifted in song and their heart near to bursting with joy.

 

   Eventually, they began to separate again, and Sam slowly came to his senses. With a sigh of regret he gently unwound himself from Gabriel (although he did notice that the bond between them seemed to be even stronger than before,) and slipped back into his vessel, still lying under the warmth of Gabriel’s body in the grass.

 

   He just lay there breathing deeply for a second, blinking dazedly, listening to the stream chattering and the birdsong. Finally, Gabriel stirred on his chest, lifting his head to grin down at him, eyes lidded and warm.

 

   “You’ve worn me out, kid!”

 

   “What the hell was that?” The words came out a little garbled.

 

   “Kind of the opposite of hell, Samster. That was probably the closest equivalent angels have for sex. Good, right?”

 

   “Too good. I’m never gonna be able to appreciate regular sex again,” Sam groaned mournfully.

 

   Gabriel patted him clumsily on the shoulder. “Oh don’t worry, we’ll work on it. We’ll have regular squishy human sex another time when you don’t go bursting out of your vessel whenever you get worked up. I’ll teach you!” Gabriel’s eyes took on an anticipatory gleam and Sam laughed.

 

   “I look forward to it.”

 

   How had he ever gotten here? Six months ago he had been fully human and dying, and now here he was, a sorta-probably-archangel, permanently bound to a being who they had thought had died years ago. Someone who he _loved_ he realised, despite their past, more fiercely than he had loved in years (maybe even ever). The word echoed around his brain, bouncing off his disbelief, but he didn’t try to deny it. He couldn’t. It was the truth.

 

   Sam felt Gabriel go stiff with surprise, then his mouth curved into a smile against Sam’s skin and there was a flush of sincere warmth and gratitude through the bond. Sam prodded him gently in the side.

 

   “Stop listening in.”

 

   Gabriel was unrepentant. “Aw but Sam, you’re warming the cockles of my cold, shrivelled heart, don’t stop!”

 

   Sam snorted fondly. Of all the wild possibilities their life seemed to throw up at every turning point, he would have never guessed this one.

 

   A thought occurred to him. He felt his forehead crease a little as he contemplated for a second. Gabriel lazily plucked a handful of grass and amused himself by arranging it on Sam’s shoulder.

 

   “Gabriel?”

 

   “Hmmm?”

 

   “Am I immortal now?”

 

   Gabriel rolled his eyes then buried his face against Sam’s chest so his voice came out muffled against his shirt. “Can I just enjoy the afterglow for a second here before we start exploring the meaning of the universe?”

 

   “No.”

 

   Gabriel gave a disgruntled noise but propped his chin on Sam’s sternum “Fine. Yeah, you’re immortal. Tends to come with the angel package.”

 

   Sam was quiet for a second, contemplating. He might live forever. At the moment, that seemed so much more intimidating than mortality. Time stretching on, out to infinity- no end in sight. And Dean wasn’t immortal. Dean was going to die, well before that. What did he have, forty more years? Fifty?

 

   Gabriel seemed to have noticed his darker thoughts because he propped himself on an arm and plucked another handful of grass, deliberately casual.

 

   “You’re really stuck on this, aren’t you Sammy? You do remember that we can visit heaven, right? You _are_ an angel.”

 

   Sam stared for a second then breathed out, slow and relieved, the tension leaking out of him. How could he have forgotten that? Gabriel was right, Dean might die but he wouldn’t be out of reach. He’d be living the life of luxury, surrounded by pie and memories of fireworks and no doubt Castiel too. And it was the same with all their other friends; he was willing to bet that they’d all found their way to Ash’s bar by now. He’d see them all again. Maybe even his mom and dad.

 

   Gabriel plucked a long grass head, twirling it between his fingers. “So, where do you wanna go now we've both got phenomenal cosmic powers? Exploring earth? The solar system? Heaven?”

 

   Sam thought about it for a second. “Definitely not heaven, not yet. And I’d like to stick around here while everyone we know is still alive. After that, though? Everywhere.”

 

   Gabriel laughed, joyful, and Sam smiled up at him, cupped a hand around his face, touched a thumb gently to the laugh lines around his eyes, to the corner of his mouth, before leaning up to kiss him. For them, it wasn’t a metaphor; they really were going to go _everywhere_. And they were going to do it together.

 

   “I can’t wait to show it all to you, kiddo.”

 

   They had all the time in the world.

 

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, guys! The final chapter. That's all, she wrote.
> 
> First of all, thank you so much to everyone who commented and kudosed on this, or its predecessor; you've made all the difference, really. Feedback is the fuel of a writers engine. That, and tea, and late night writing mania.
> 
> This story was the first thing I published as a WIP, and I feel that I've come so far and learnt so much since I started it, even though it wasn't all that long ago. In a way it's sad to finish it, even though this ending feels satisfactory, because it feels like that this story has been growing as I have. I hope it's been as fun to read as it was to write.
> 
> See you soon!


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